Spontaneous
by jayfeather12345
Summary: Some people deal with break-ups by having rebound one-night-stands. Some people isolate themselves completely, shutting the world out. But me? I accept a marriage proposal from the first stranger I meet on the streets in the middle of the night. I don't think Drew thought I would actually say yes - he just wanted to walk away from his ex-fiancé with his head held high...
1. Endings

**Chapter One**

 **~ Endings ~**

 _Then came the screaming_

 _And the crying_

 _It was the sound of_

 _Both of us fighting_

I was stumbling down the street, not paying any attention to where I was going in the dark. I felt sick; my palms were clammy and my breathing irregular. The roots of my hair were drenched in sweat. I kept almost tripping over uneven paving stones and nearly falling, but managing to regain my balance just in time. The last thing I needed was a physical wound on top of the hole in my heart.

"Fine then! Leave!" A feminine shriek reached my ears from down the street. Looking through blurry eyes I saw the lights in one house in the row come on, and I grimaced. I had just left a domestic fight; I didn't want to walk right into the middle of another one. But I couldn't turn around – _he_ might think I had changed my mind.

"See if I care! You're the one who's going to disappoint his father when you cancel the wedding! You're the one who's going to lose his inheritance!" The same voice continued its rant, and I couldn't help but feel a little bit glad that my own mess hadn't involved anything as serious as marriage. If Dawn were here she would probably tell me that that was the bright side to my misery – at least he was only my boyfriend, my _ex_ -boyfriend, and not my ex-fiancé.

A male voice took over as I drew closer to the house of the fight, which stood out like a sore thumb in the otherwise dark, quiet neighbourhood. I was mildly surprised that the sounds of their row hadn't disturbed any neighbours – but then, it was about 2:30am. Most people were probably ignoring it. _Just like the fight I had was ignored._

"You think you know everything, don't you? You think I _need_ you – but you know nothing! I never needed _you_ , I just needed a wife! I would have made you happy, I would have given you everything you've ever wanted, but you just had to screw it up!" He sounded like a dam that had reached its breaking point and was finally collapsing to let all the water it had held inside for too long flood out. _He sounds just like I did._

I walked into a lamp post. It didn't hurt much, I hadn't been walking fast, but tears began to fall from my eyes. As if I hadn't cried enough already.

" _I_ screwed it up, did I? _You're_ the one who-"

"We could go over and over and over this all night, but you know what? I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of screaming my head off at someone who NEVER even deserved to call herself my girlfriend, let alone my FIANCÉ! I'm DONE, Brianna! I'm just…done."

I inhaled slowly at the tiredness in his tone. He wasn't shouting anymore. He might have said something else that I couldn't hear, but shortly after, when I was only a couple of metres away from the house, the front door was flung open. I stopped, uncertain. Should I continue walking and hope they didn't notice that I had overheard their fight? Or should I hang back in the shadows until the coast was clear? I barely had time to think about it – a second later, a man stormed out of the house in front of me.

"Wait!" The woman called after him – one last, desperate plea. "Drew… can't we try to work things out? I… I don't want you to leave."

The heartbreak in her voice brought a lump to my throat. I couldn't see her from where I was standing, but I knew her eyes were red and filled with tears. I knew her hair was a mess and her hands were trembling. _She looks just like he did._

The man had stopped on the edge of the pavement, and now he turned slowly around to look at her icily. He didn't say anything, and she took this as an invitation to keep trying to persuade him not to leave.

"I know what I did was wrong, but you're not perfect either… Can't we just come back inside and sit down to talk this out like adults? You only proposed to me because your father was putting pressure on you – surely you didn't expect me to just accept that I was always only going to be business to you, and never fun? Do you really blame me for trying to have some fun by myself before the big day, before I got stuck with you for life?"

I winced. _'Stuck with you for life'_ … That was harsh. _Is she trying to win him back or push him even further away?_

The man's jaw tightened. In the weak glare of the street lamp I could see his eyes harden – probably along with his heart.

The woman was still going, unaware of his worsening demeanor. "What I'm trying to say is, I don't want you to leave. I honestly don't. I – I love you Drew, and I know I don't deserve you but-"

"No." Drew had stayed quiet during the whole of her small speech, listening to every word carefully. But it seemed he had finally had enough of her sniveling. "No, Brianna, you don't deserve me. I think that's the first thing you've ever gotten right in your entire life – that, and deciding to become a trophy wife instead of pursuing a real career, since you simply don't have the brains to strike out on your own. Oh, wait, you didn't even manage to become a trophy wife because your idiocy clouded your judgement. Goodbye Brianna – I hope you find someone someday whose actually stupid enough to love you." He turned around again as Brianna began to sob loudly and hysterically.

I wished I hadn't decided to linger in the shadows. I should have walked the other way; I should have faced my fear of seeing _him_ again. Because the fight I had just witnessed was way too personal to have had an onlooker.

Brianna grabbed wildly at the last thing she could think of in a desperate attempt to change his mind. "You'll really give up your inheritance just because we had one fight? I'm not the stupid one here, you are – if you don't marry me, then you're nothing as far as your family, and the entire world, are concerned. You won't even be able to fall back on coordinating. You know I have connections, and because of that I have the power to make sure that in five years no-one on earth will remember your name." As she reached the end her tone lifted triumphantly. She thought she had won.

But Drew didn't look like a man who had been defeated by an ultimatum. Instead, he turned around and looked me straight in the eye. A shocked squeak escaped my lips. Had he known I was there the whole time? I felt my ghostly-pale face flush red with embarrassment. I began to stammer that I was sorry to have stumbled into their argument, that I hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but Drew silenced me by suddenly dropping down onto one knee.

I heard a gasp, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed a woman – Brianna – stepping out onto the street so she could see what was happening. But I was too preoccupied with what the stranger in front of me was doing to take a proper look at his ex-fiancé.

"Hello, person on the street whom I have just met. Will you marry me?" Drew asked in a voice hoarse and scratchy from shouting. He gazed up at me with large, vulnerable green eyes. His hair was green too, and he had a fringe which had fallen across one eye. He flicked it back in one smooth motion. Underneath his eyes I noticed dark bags, as if he hadn't been getting much sleep. _Just like me._ His skin was pale, too. _Just like mine._ And behind the emotionless façade shining through his emerald stare I recognized the familiar pain of a broken heart.

I realised something: I didn't know this man. I didn't know his story. I didn't know what had happened between him and the woman standing in the doorway with a glare frostier than a lake in winter directed at me. I didn't know if his proposal was real or if he was just making a point. But what I did know was that he was going through the same hell I was right now – and if agreeing to marry him in front of the woman he had just broken off an engagement with would help even a tiny amount to ease his pain, I wasn't about to say no.

"Yes," I said, staring directly into his eyes. "Person on the street whom I have just met, I will marry you."

Surprise flickered across his face in the widening of his eyes and the slight parting of his lips. But he took one look at the expression on Brianna's face – part shock, part outrage, and part heartbreak – and he seemed to decide to roll with it. "Of course you will, I've not met a single girl who would ever say no," he boasted, flicking his fringe out of his eyes.

At any other time, the arrogance in his tone would have made me want to punch him, but there was a hollowness to his words that struck a chord within me. I briefly considered just turning and leaving – I don't think he would have blamed me if I had – but a picture of _him_ flashed in the forefront of my mind and I made myself a promise, then and there: _I'm going to marry this man I just met, and I'm going to have a massive, over-the-top wedding followed by a honeymoon to make the happiest of girls jealous, and then I'm going to come home and flaunt my successful relationship until_ he _feels the way I feel right now – until he regrets the day he ever pushed me away._

I forced a smile to lift the corners of my mouth. "So, since we're going to get married, do you think we should introduce ourselves? Or at least, I should tell you my name, since I heard your ex call you Drew. That is your name, isn't it?"

Drew nodded. "It is. May I have the pleasure of knowing yours, then?"

An inappropriate fit of giggles struggled to burst out of me at his unintentional choice of words. He saw me struggling to swallow my mirth and quirked an eyebrow. "My name is May," I explained, calming down. It had felt good to forget about everything that had happened that evening and just laugh, even if only for a moment. But somber reality set back in all too fast, and suddenly I wanted to cry. As if sensing the change in my mood – or maybe a similar feeling had overcome him, too – he stood up and reached for my hand. I let him take it.

"Okay, May, how about you come back to my place and we start talking about the wedding?" he suggested, and the seriousness of his tone made me want to laugh again. I was such a mess.

I nodded my agreement, not really taking anything in anymore and just going the way the wind blew.

Finally, Brianna seemed to find her voice. "Drew!" she screeched, causing the both of us to grit our teeth. "You – you can't seriously marry _a girl you just met_!"

We both looked at her at the same time, and I hid a smile. We'd barely known each other five seconds and already we were doing everything together!

Drew just smirked – it was the first genuine expression I had seen him wear all night. "I'd rather marry a girl I just met than _you_ – even if she turns out to be a psychotic serial killer, she won't be worse than you."

Brianna was lost for words; we heard nothing more from her until she slammed the door as loudly as the strength in her stick-thin arms would allow.

Drew and I took our first steps hand-in-hand away from Brianna and her house, and we kept walking for a good twenty minutes in complete silence. Strangely, it wasn't the awkward kind of silence where you're both searching for words and coming up blank, or the kind of silence that feels forced. It was peaceful. We had both had rough nights, and both of us had done a fair amount of screaming. In the twenty minutes that we walked without talking, our throats had a chance to recover and our thoughts had a chance to slow down after the whirlwind which I was sure had occupied both our minds.

All I could feel was his hand in mine. Not even the biting coldness of December could pierce the numbness shrouding me. I didn't need to look at him to know he felt the same way. His hand was warm, and solid, and the only anchor I had to keep me on the ground. I was afraid that if I let go, the wind would whisk me away to a place where my feelings would continue to bleed until there was nothing left of me.

We wandered through several streets, some that I recognised and some that I didn't, until we ended up at the park. It looked ghostly in the moonlight – a sight which calmed me. I didn't know what was going to happen next. I couldn't go back to my house, because _he_ was there. I couldn't pick up any of my things, and I no longer had a place to sleep. I was effectively homeless. But that thought didn't terrify me as much as knowing my whole life had changed in a matter of hours.

From beside me, Drew gently raised his free arm to point at the stars sparkling above us. He didn't say anything; he didn't need to. Both of our lives were going to be very different from now on, but the world hadn't ended – the stars were still shining. Drew didn't need Brianna, and I didn't need _him_. We both had no-one now… and yet we had each other.

Somehow, as we made our way over to a bench and sat down, still holding hands, I felt our hearts begin the healing process – if only by a tiny little bit.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This story is a little different to all my others, and I feel like it's better written too (though you guys will be the judges of that!), and it feels more special to me than any others. I'm actually really happy with the way it's turning out and I've been so inspired to write it that I've already completed the first three chapters in four days (a first for me!) and if my motivation continues at this level then I might actually finish a story with regular updates and no long hiatus! Yay! I hope to update every week, on either Friday or Saturday (another first - I NEVER have an update schedule because I know I won't manage to stick to it!).

For these reasons I won't be doing my usual author's notes every chapter (wow, yet another first! I'm just full of surprises today!) because I don't want to interrupt the flow of the story, unless absolutely necessarily. Therefore, I'll reply to every review by PM - and unfortunately it means I won't be able to reply to guest reviews unless they get an account, UNLESS I really need to reply to them, in which case I will add in an author's note to do so. But:

I'm really grateful for any reviews I get, they inspire me so much. I just hope you all enjoy reading the story, and review/PM me with any questions!

Oh and I know May and Drew might seem a little OOC in the first few chapters but that's only because they've both just been through rough break-ups. They'll become more of their usual selves by about chapter four or five, I promise!

And if you're wondering, this story focuses mainly on Contestshipping but will include a bit of Ikarishipping and Oldrivalshipping (or whatever LeafxGary is called), and maybe some others but I'm not sure yet.

Also, I highly recommend listening to 'On Purpose' by Sabrina Carpenter - the lyrics fit this story PERFECTLY - I was so surprised when I first heard them!

Lastly, the words in italics at the beginning of every chapter are from a (sort of) song I wrote which (sort of) fits this plot and the characters, but they're not specific to the chapter they are at the beginning of (though the lyrics at the beginning of this chapter actually do kinda fit it).

Thank you so much for reading!

 **~Jay**


	2. Engaged

**Chapter Two**

 **~ Engaged ~**

 _I can't remember_

 _Why we even ever_

 _Got together_

I knew one of us would have to break the silence eventually. I didn't want to be the first to speak, but I needed to know the answer to the question on the tip of my tongue.

"So…were you being serious back there?" My voice cracked as I spoke and the words felt clumsy on my tongue, but it was too late to take them back.

Drew didn't move his eyes from staring out over the frosted grass of the park. In the centre of the grass, an ornamental fountain glittered as the moonlight reflected off the frozen water. It was a beautiful - and haunting - sight.

"About what?" he asked.

I frowned. Was he being serious? Did he actually not remember, or was he playing stupid? I was tired of games; if he wanted to play one he was going to have to find a different opponent. I got straight to the point: "About getting married."

The corner of Drew's mouth lifted as if he was amused. "A complete stranger asks you to marry him and the first question you have is whether or not he was being serious?"

I scowled. The magic of the moments we had spent in silence was gone. It seemed I was the only one to feel like time spent in a stranger's company was calming and the beginning of the healing process. Though I was feeling worse by the second. "Don't laugh at me. You're not the only one who's had a rough night."

For the first time, Drew looked at me properly. When he had proposed, he hadn't really been looking at _me_. All he had seen was a chance to leave his ex-fiancé's house with his head held high. But now, he was actually _looking_ at me. I swallowed nervously as he scrutinized me.

"Clearly," he said at last. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I was horrified to remember that I was a complete mess – my hair was so sweaty that it was sticking to my head and shoulders, I was paler than the ice in the fountain, I had bags as dark as soot under my eyes, and I probably smelled pretty bad too. Drew wasn't exactly picture-perfect either, but he still looked better than I did. All of this did nothing to improve my state of mind, and I found a tornado of anger rising within me that had been gathering steam ever since I slammed the front door of my own house with myself on the wrong side of it. All of my frustration and all of my pain exploded into Drew's face.

"You think you have it bad – and yeah, from what I heard you do have it pretty bad – but none of that even compares to what I've been through. I was just minding my own business and walking down the street trying to get away from everything and not think about the fact that I'm now homeless and possession-less because my ex has taken over my house and I'd rather walk through fire than go back there when I stumbled upon a row some couple are having.

"Then a stranger proposes to me to get back at his fiancé who thinks she can control him and we walk off holding hands and don't say anything for nearly half an hour and it's the end of December and freezing cold and I don't even have a jacket and YES I HAVE A RIGHT TO KNOW WHETHER OR NOT HIS PROPOSAL WAS SERIOUS BECAUSE RIGHT NOW I WOULD DO ANYTHING TO TAKE MY MIND OFF MY EX, EVEN IF THAT MEANS MARRYING SOME GRASS-HAIRED JERK WHO THINKS HE'S SO MUCH BETTER THAN ME!" As soon as I finished, I began drawing in large gulps of air. I hadn't meant to get so carried away, and by the end I had been talking so fast I barely knew what I was saying. But, looking at the surprised expression on Drew's face, it was worth it.

Drew took his time to gather his thoughts as he considered what I had said. I was beginning to worry that I had gone overboard and scared him away until he finally said, "Okay. Let's get married."

I stared at him. I don't know what I had expected, but it certainly wasn't that. "O-okay."

He gave me a slight smile. "I don't know whether I was serious or not when I proposed to you earlier. I was just angry with Brianna. But what she said about losing my inheritance if I don't get married is true, so I do need to get a wife. Besides, you're right – we've both just gotten out of relationships, it'll do us good to do something reckless." I returned his smile as he added, "Oh, and here, wrap yourself up in this." He slipped off his hoodie and I shook my head.

"I can't take that - it's yours."

He grinned. "Hey, we're engaged now. What's mine is yours."

"But you'll get cold," I protested.

"I've been in a freezing relationship for over a year; I think I can handle a bit of winter weather."

* * *

Roughly an hour later, we were standing outside the door of a house Drew said one of his friends lived in. It had taken a while to find because it was dark and Drew had never walked to his friend's house directly from the park before, but eventually we got there. The porch light had come on the moment we'd arrived, bathing us in a welcome glow.

There was a small part of me that was apprehensive about going to a strange house with a man I had only just met, but for some reason I trusted Drew. Maybe it was because no-one could have faked he fight he and Brianna had had or maybe it was just a gut feeling, but I was pretty sure he wasn't a murderer or a rapist or anything like that. And it was clear his feelings reflected mine, which helped to lift the heavy weight in my chest just a little bit. It wasn't so much that I had forgotten about my own nasty break-up as it was that Drew was a good distraction from the pain – and the excitement at not knowing where I was going to end up added a small spark back into my spirit.

"Problem," Drew stated, turning to face me. His hand hovered over the doorbell. "It's the middle of the night. I don't think my friend is going to appreciate me waking him up to come open the door."

And the spark was crushed. I folded my arms over my chest, withdrawing into his hoodie as much as I could to shelter from the frosty air. "Don't tell me you dragged me half way across town only to be scared of knocking on a door," I said, half-jokingly and half-threateningly.

Drew glanced down at his feet. "If it was just late in the evening – heck, if it was midnight, I'd knock. Or call him. But it's four am. Would you appreciate being woken up at this hour?"

I narrowed my eyes. "No. But we can't stay out here, we'll freeze to death. And as much as I hate my life right now, I'm not desperate to end it."

Something changed in Drew's expression. "Then you should go to a pokémon centre. I'm sure they can find a bed for you."

All of my anger drained away, leaving only compassion. "And what about you?" I asked, trying not to dread the answer.

Drew still wasn't looking at me. "I think I'll just go back to the park."

I didn't reply immediately. It became so clear in that moment that Brianna wasn't just a trophy wife to him; she had never been 'just a trophy wife'. He was hurting a whole lot more than he was letting on. Maybe I should have let him go back to the park. Maybe I should have let him slowly give in to the cold and sink deeper and deeper into the darkness of his mind until his heart stopped trying to beat. We could have parted ways – me to the pokémon centre, pretending I'd never met this handsome stranger who had asked me for my hand in marriage upon our very first meeting until I forgot he had ever existed… and him to his death. I could have so easily turned my back on him. I doubted he would have blamed me.

I slowly reached out a hand until I could touch his cold, unshaven face. He didn't flinch or move away. He didn't even seem to register the gesture. Gently, I turned his head towards mine, so I could look into his eyes. They were empty of everything except despair. _He wants me to let him go…_

"What about your house?" I asked softly. "Or was it your house that you left Brianna in?"

"No. My house is just outside the far side of town. It takes too long to get there. I can't walk anymore. I don't… I don't want to go on. I just want to go back. May, I – I want to go back."

I had a feeling he wasn't just talking about the park. "I know," I murmured in a voice barely above a whisper. "But sometimes, when bad things happen and we want nothing more than to just go back and try to fix what's broken, going back is the worst thing to do. It's going forward that helps. There's a reason the sun sets at the end of the old day and rises at the beginning of the new day. It's because the sun can't go back, it can't 'un-set', it can only go forward – and it brings a whole lot of golden light with it. You don't see it now because the darkness seems endless, but that break-up was the setting of an old day. You and I getting married? That's the golden sunrise of the new day." I surprised myself with the words that came out of my mouth, but they weren't just for him – I think I needed to hear them too. He certainly wasn't going to say them, and someone had to.

Finally, he looked at me. His eyes were dark, but when I searched deeper into his gaze I noticed a tiny spark of light. I smiled and stepped closer, closing the gap between us. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I pulled him into a hug.

We were both freezing and we were both hurting. But as our bodies shivered together they created warmth to share, and as our hearts bled together the other's blood began to stitch our own wounds.

"We'll be okay," I whispered into his ear, standing on tiptoes.

I felt him smile against my cheek. He carefully slipped his arms around my back, drawing me closer. "Yes," he murmured back, "we will."

We stayed like that for a while, just breathing in and out together. The serenity felt good; it was a sharp contrast to everything I had left behind.

"It really is cold," Drew muttered at last through chattering teeth. "Maybe we should find somewhere warm now. Not the pokémon centre though – there's a hotel about a ten-minute walk from here?"

I withdrew my hands from his shoulders and lifted my head from where it had come to rest in the crook of his neck. To any onlooker, we would have seemed like a couple sharing an intimate embrace. I wanted to laugh bitterly. Drew seemed to be feeling a little better – the light had come back into his eyes. But I was beginning to regret not leaving when I had the chance. I didn't want to go to a hotel. Heck, I was beginning to want to go back to the park myself. This whole night was such a rollercoaster that up until hugging Drew I'd been completely numb. However, the warmth from his body seemed to have melted the numbness around my heart, and pain throbbed from the wound afresh. "Is it too late to go back to the park?" I muttered under my breath.

"What?" Drew asked, not having heard my words.

I swallowed, feeling the roughness of the lump in my throat. "I said, why not the pokémon centre?"

Drew took a step back, officially breaking our embrace. A fresh wave of coldness crashed over my head. "I just don't want to get, um, recognised. Attention from the media is the last thing I need right now and words spreads fast in open places like pokémon centres. The hotel down the road is a lot more… selective about its guests. They'll make sure we get enough privacy."

"Uh…" I was unsure how to react to that. Who was this guy, some kind of celebrity? "Why would you get recognised"

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't know who I am?" he asked in disbelief. "Well, at least I know you're not just another fangirl trying to take advantage of me," he remarked, somewhat sarcastically.

"Hang on…" Now that I thought about it, his striking green hair and eyes were familiar… He was short by most people's standards (though _still_ taller than me)… and Brianna had mentioned that he was a coordinator… A distant memory emerged from under the surface of my mind, of Dawn and I watching last year's Grand Festival and giggling over the attractiveness of the green-haired winner… "You're Drew Hayden?" I exclaimed, the darkness fading from my mind as something similar to excitement took over. "Oh my gosh – you're actually _Drew Hayden_!"

He rolled his eyes. "Great. So you are a fangirl. I just can't catch a break, can I?"

I gritted my teeth. My fangirl moment was well and truly over. "So you're an all-star coordinator, so what? You're still an arrogant grasshead," I growled, turning and marching down the steps to the porch we were standing on.

Drew hurried after me. "Hey – that's the second time you've called me a _grasshead_! Pot calling the kettle black, much?"

I shot a scowl at him over my shoulder, speeding up my walking pace. "Is my hair the colour of shrubbery? No, it is not."

"I resent that – my hair is the epitome of life, nature, energy, and growth; everything I stand for as a coordinator. What's your hair the colour of, hmm?"

He was catching up, and I broke into a light jog to stay ahead. "Chocolate – the only thing in life worth living for. Especially when you consider that your hair is also the colour of slime and gross, unmentionable things," I shot back, turning a corner.

"At least I don't look like there are dead leaves sprouting from my skull!"

"No, you look like there's a full bush growing on your head, and not only that but it's clearly been pooped on by a bird. I'd take dead leaves over that any day!" I glanced back at him once more, smiling. He was grinning too.

"You're going the wrong way, by the way."

My smile faded. He just _had_ to ruin the moment.


	3. Room for One

**Chapter Three**

 **~ Room for One ~**

 _You can't think straight_

 _For the heartbreak_

 _Echoes all around_

Stepping into the foyer of the hotel was like stepping into a page from a glossy magazine. The floor was made of marble so polished it could be a mirror, and four ornamental pillars encouraged the image of a palace. Cream leather seats lined the two walls adjacent to the front desk, which was sandwiched between two grand staircases furnished by two strips of red carpets that could easily have been made of silk or velvet. Massive, rectangular mirrors framed in gold hung opposite each other above the seats and in the centre of the large room was a small, decorative fountain spouting little bursts of water at regular intervals. Jewel studs sparkled from around the edge of the fountain, and the water glowed an ethereal white, presumably from lightbulbs set into the sides. But the hotel's most attractive feature by far was how gloriously warm it was compared to the outside world.

"Wow."

"I know," Drew smirked, flicking his hair in what I now recognised as his signature move.

"Who'd have thought you actually have taste?" I teased.

Drew narrowed his eyes. "For your information, my tastes are excellent."

I replied swiftly and without thinking. "Excuse me for doubting you, Mr-I-was-engaged-to-the-perfect-woman." _Uh-oh - way to rub salt in the wound, May._

Drew looked away, his playful expression fading.

I sighed. "Hey, we're both tired. Let's just get a room and go to sleep," I suggested softly.

He nodded and led me to the front desk. There was no-one there, but a note in the middle read: _If you arrive after midnight, ring the bell for assistance_. Drew rang the bell.

It was as we were waiting that I had a horrible realisation. "I can't stay here," I mumbled, feeling my face heat up.

Drew glanced at me. "Why not?"

"I, uh, don't have any money," I admitted reluctantly.

To my surprise, Drew didn't just say 'tough luck' and be done with it. Instead, he gave me a slight smile. "Don't worry, I'll pay."

"But- you don't have any money either," I reminded him. My stomach was beginning to tie itself in knots as I realised that I didn't belong here, in this posh hotel with its five-star service and mini fountain in the foyer, when I was now homeless and without a single penny to my name. Even when I'd had money, I still wouldn't have been able to afford this place in my wildest of dreams. Walking into this hotel had been like a fairytale come true – but all fairytales end; this one just finished sooner than I had expected.

Drew lifted an eyebrow. "I'll tell them to put it on my tab."

"No – no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be here, I'll just…" I was about to rush out of the hotel, but at that precise moment the receptionist emerged from a door behind the desk.

"Hello," she said with a bright smile. "How may I help you?"

I would have backed away anyway, but Drew put a firm arm around my waist, preventing me from leaving. "I said, don't worry about it," he whispered in my ear. To the receptionist, whose eyes had lit up when she had looked Drew up and down, he said, "Hi, we'd like rooms for the night, please."

I tried to covertly struggle out of his grasp without arousing the suspicions of the receptionist – I didn't want to cause a scene – but the more I wriggled the tighter he held on. Leaning into him, I hissed in his ear: "Let me go - I don't belong here."

"You want a room each?" the receptionist asked, failing to cover her surprise. Did we really look like that close of a couple to her? I supposed I _had_ just gotten closer to Drew…

Drew nodded. "We're, ah, newly engaged, and we've decided to stay chaste until the wedding," he explained weakly. I wanted to scoff. If I'd been behind the desk, I wouldn't have bought such a feeble statement. He even phrased it more as a question than a statement.

The receptionist just cooed in response. "That's so sweet! Belated congratulations to the both of you," she exclaimed, though I didn't miss the sideways glance she shot me. Once again, I was reminded of my disgusting appearance _. So she buys that we're staying chaste before the wedding but not that I'm actually his fiancé?_ That sounded messed up even to me – maybe I was just being paranoid.

As she turned to type something into her computer, Drew lowered his mouth to my ear. "Just stop struggling, will you? I said I'd pay, what's the big deal?"

"This hotel is clearly for celebrities and rich upper-class, and I look like a hobo! And I'll never be able to pay you back for the fee of the room, it probably costs as more money than I make in a year," I muttered, feeling more embarrassed after every word.

"Well I'm not letting you freeze out-" Drew began to snap back, but the receptionist interrupted us.

"We don't have two singles next to each other I'm afraid, but if you don't mind being on separate floors then rooms 309 and 406 are free." She offered us the room cards on an outstretched palm, but the gesture made me feel worse. _This hotel is so posh that they don't even have room keys – they have room_ card _s._

Drew accepted the cards with a grateful smile. "Thanks so much. Could you put the cost on my tab? – Yeah, Hayden, that's right."

The receptionist was watching us all the way up the stairs until she couldn't see us anymore so I went without a fight – until we reached the first floor.

Planting my feet firmly at the beginning of the corridor, I folded my arms across my chest. "You can't make me go any further," I hissed.

Drew's placid expression morphed into one of annoyance. "Will you quit being difficult? I've already paid for the room, if you don't take it now then you've lost me nearly a thousand pounds."

My eyes widened. "A _thousand_ pounds!" I exclaimed, forgetting to keep my voice down. "One room for one night costs a _thousand_ pounds? No wonder they can afford to have a fountain in the foyer!"

"Shut up!" Drew whisper-yelled, frantically waving his hands in front of my face. "People are trying to sleep!"

Oops. "Sorry," I murmured, lowering the volume of my voice. "I forgot. But still – a thousand pounds is ridiculous."

"It's _close_ to a thousand," Drew corrected, gazing nervously down the corridors at all the closed doors with numbers engraved into polished silver plaques.

"Whatever. You can always get a refund," I started to point out – until the door closest to us began to creak open.

"What the hell's going on out here?" growled a grouchy voice, angry at having been woken by our loud conversation.

Drew and I glanced at each other. Both of our eyes were wide open in horror.

"This way!" Drew grabbed my arm and began to drag me the other way, but I needed no encouragement to follow him. We ran right to the end of the corridor, where the lift was situated, and I punched the button so hard that for a moment I thought I'd broken my knuckles.

"Owwww," I uttered mournfully.

"Airhead," Drew muttered.

A glance over my shoulder showed that the person we had woken up was now lumbering clumsily down the corridor towards us. He was a great, hulking man with shoulders so broad they spanned the entire width of the corridor and massive, meaty hands swung at his sides. His teeth were bared like a giant Usaring's, and it may have just been my imagination but I could've sworn I saw his eyes flash red.

 _Ding!_

The lift had arrived. We bundled inside, both diving for the floor numbers at the same time. In our panic we weren't paying attention to which numbers we pressed. We just wanted to get out of the line of fire.

As if we could get further away from the oncoming missile we pressed ourselves against the back of the lift, our hearts in our throats.

"We're not going to make it," I squealed as quietly as I could, unable to tear my eyes from our pursuer.

Drew slapped his hand over mine. I looped my fingers through his, squeezing his hand tightly. "Yes we will," he whispered back, but he didn't sound confident.

Finally, the doors began to close, but they were so sloooow…

As the man got closer, we could hear him panting heavily. He was speeding up.

Five metres… Four metres… Three metres… Two metres… One metre…

 _Ding!_

The doors closed on the man's snarling face. We'd made it.

"That was close," I sighed, looking at Drew. He looked back at me, relief dominating his face.

"For a moment I didn't think we'd escape," he agreed.

A smile began to spread over my face, starting with my mouth and rising to my eyes. Drew's face reflected my own. A second later we were both laughing, mirth spilling out of us like an overflowing sink. It felt so good to just forget about everything and laugh over the stupidest things as we compared our descriptions of the man who had chased after us, making each detail more outrageous than the last. By the time the lift had stopped at the right floor and Drew had walked me to room 309, neither of us could remember what the man had actually looked like. All we could think about was how good it felt to have emerged unscathed and victorious, for once.

It wasn't until Drew had left and I had locked the door behind me that I realised I had completely forgotten all of my protests to staying in the hotel.

For a moment, leaning with my back to the door, I debated leaving without telling Drew. I could always leave him a note to thank him for his kindness. But the room was warm, and after all that excitement exhaustion was overwhelming me. It was warm in here. I didn't want to go back out into the cold. And it would be a shame to waste the comfortableness of that bed… It wasn't like anyone else was going to sleep there tonight. Before I could change my mind I had staggered over the bed, not even turning on the light so I could see and instead feeling my way through the dark, collapsing down onto it.

I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

* * *

The sun woke me the next morning, bathing my face in a gentle glow.

"Uggh," I mumbled, rolling over to get it out of my eyes.

It was a few moments later that my tired brain realised the bed I was lying in wasn't my own. It was too soft, and too big. _Of course – I'm in the hotel._

"Screw you, Drew," I muttered. Somehow, he had gotten me to _enjoy_ sleeping in a bed I couldn't afford. "Heh, that rhymes." I sniggered to myself. _I'm so easily amused._

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, the first thing I saw when I opened them was a digital clock blinking at me from the table next to the bed. It read _2:23pm_.

 _Wait… 2:23pm?!_

"Shoot!" I scrambled upright, swinging my legs out from under the thick, winter covers. I instantly regretted it. "Cold! Cold! Cold!" I yelped, diving back under the duvet.

This was what they called a dilemma. Brace the cold and get up, go find Drew, and try to make sense of the mess that had become our lives? Or stay here in the nice, warm cocoon of safety where nothing could ever hurt me again? It was a tough decision. Eventually, the bed won out.

Then my stomach grumbled. "Screw you, stomach. I was just getting comfortable again."

Reluctantly I sat back up in bed, pulling my knees up to my chest and hugging the duvet tight around me. The curtains were still closed, but the sun entered through a small gap in the middle. They were a pretty rose-pink colour which corresponded with the décor of the rest of the room, or at least from what I could see of it in its half-darkened state. The bed I'd slept it was a four-poster with curtains I could draw around me if I wanted to properly block out the rest of the world – an idea that was increasingly tempting as I thought back to the events of the previous night. They were the same shade of rose-pink, though the duvet was pale gold and embroidered with a pattern of falling autumn leaves outlined in various shades of white, gold, and pink. The carpet was a thick cream and the walls were white, as was the ceiling, from what I could make out - pretty flower designs were carved into it. There was a large, pale-gold wardrobe opposite the bed with a mirror framed in gold fixed onto the left door. A matching dresser and stool next to it. A wide, glass coffee table was situated at the end of my bed, and standing against the wall near the door was a chest of draws matching the rest of the furniture. On top of the writing desk opposite was a tray of hotel goodies, a few mugs, and a kettle. There was a rug in the middle of the room too, in the marbled colours of cream, pale gold, and rose-pink. All in all, it was a beautiful room - and it made me furious. Not only was I insanely jealous, but I couldn't even go to Drew and yell at him because I was mad that he'd gotten me to stay here because I loved the room so much that I would have been even angrier if he hadn't forced me to stay here against my will.

"Screw you, Drew," I muttered again, through gritted teeth. "Screw. You."

Noticing a fluffy, cream-coloured dressing-gown hanging on the door I assumed led to an ensuite bathroom, I gulped in a large breath of air and made a run for it – but before I got to it I noticed my appearance in the mirror and barely recognised myself. I looked like I'd died and woken up centuries later, in clothes that probably smelled worse than sewage works.

I took a shower (reveling in the hot water), washed my hair, brushed my teeth (using the complimentary hotel necessities provided), used the toilet, and sprayed on some deodorant. Then I wrapped myself in the dressing gown, not wanting to out my old clothes back on, and decided to go and find Drew. It wasn't like I had that many options; with no clothes, no money, and no home, I'd have to go begging otherwise.

It wasn't until I reached the fourth floor that I realised I couldn't remember which room drew was staying in. I knew it was a number beginning with a 'four', and it had an 'o' in it, but the long corridor stretching out in front of me with all its symmetrical, perfectly-kept doors with shining silver number plates on them began to intimidate me. I began to develop the horrible feeling that I was lost.

"Don't panic," I told myself, breathing in deeply. "Just… Just start at four hundred and work your way up the rooms until you find his."

Slightly happier (though still nervous) now I had a plan of action, I shuffled over to the first door. I knocked tentatively, and steeled myself to come face to face with a complete stranger. _Though, I should probably be an expert at meeting strangers by now_ , I thought in amusement. Sure enough, an older lady opened the door. Catching one glimpse of her weathered skin I squeaked that I had the wrong room and dashed away up the corridor, hearing her mutter under her breath as she closed it behind me. Once she had gone I inched back to room 401 to knock on that door. There was no answer, even though I waited for several minutes.

As I tried the next few doors I couldn't swallow the rising panic that Drew might have already left the hotel. _He might have been a conman, and all of last night was a lie. He tempted me here under the illusion that he would pay for me and then did a runner as soon as he woke up, leaving me to cover the cost of_ two _rooms just so he could have a free night at the most expensive hotel in town! Oh that little – when I find him, I'm going to-_

"Drew!" I exclaimed, shocked to see his face appear around the door of room 406. For a wild moment I had actually fooled myself into believing he had left me here alone. Words could not describe how relieve I was after letting my mind run away with me, and Drew just looked amused, and surprised, at my enthusiastic greeting.

"That's right, come in," he muttered sarcastically as I pushed past him. I could smell croissants. Warm, buttery croissants.

"You have food," I said, staring at the breakfast tray on his bed. There were croissants, toast, tiny tubs of butter, jam, marmalade, and milk, a pots of tea and coffee, a couple of eggs in egg-cups, some bacon rashes, and pain au chocolat all somehow piled onto the same tray. My stomach growled loudly.

Drew closed the door and chuckled. "Help yourself. I ordered breakfast for two since I figured you'd appear here sooner or later, but I didn't know what you'd want so I ordered a variety."

"Thanks," was barely out of my mouth before I had launched myself towards the bed, sat down gently so as not to upset the drinks, and began to dig in.

Drew joined me, appearing to not have eaten anything yet. _Was he waiting for me to get here before he started? Or did the food only just arrive? It is still warm..._

"So," I mumbled through a mouthful of croissant, "What now?"

Drew was also wearing a hotel dressing gown and his hair was still wet like mine as if he'd only just gotten out of the shower too. He can't have woken up much before I did, which I was relieved to see. I supposed that after the night we'd had it was okay to sleep in a little (or a lot). But now we were both awake and eating breakfast, we needed to decide what we were going to do next. Or at least he did, because I had absolutely no idea. The only thing I knew was that these were good croissants.

"I suggest we see if any of the rooms on this corridor have freed up so you can move closer to me. It would be annoying to keep having to trek between floors."

"Hang on – why do I have to move? I like my room! Can't we see if there are any free rooms on my floor for you?" I protested, picking up an egg in an egg cup and battering it with a spoon.

Drew frowned. "May, all of the rooms are exactly the same. What's the big deal? It's simpler if you move closer to me."

I stopped peeling the eggshell from the egg to look around Drew's room. It was almost exactly the same as mine, apart from one little detail: the rose-pink colour had been replaced with a vibrant red.

"The colours are different."

"So?"

"I like rose-pink."

"And you don't like red?"

"Not as much as I like rose-pink," I retorted stubbornly, folding my arms.

"So the colours vary, that's a tiny difference! Would you rather take the lift or walk up an entire flight of stairs every time we need to meet up?"

"No. I would rather you move closer to me. If 'all the rooms are exactly the same' to you, you shouldn't have a problem with that, should you?"

Drew glared at me. _Ha. I win._

"But I like red," he muttered quietly.

"Okay, now you're just being difficult."

" _I'm_ being difficult? You started it!"

I stared at him incredulously, the food lying forgotten on the bed between us. "Me? You're the one who wanted me to switch rooms!"

"Yeah, and you're the one who didn't even want to stay here in the first place! If you hate this hotel so much then it shouldn't matter where you stay!"

Shoot. I forgot about that.

"Yeah, well, you're a grasshead," I shot back, but even I had to admit my comeback was weak.

Drew laughed at me. He actually _laughed_ at me. "Oh, shut up. I just like my room, okay?"

"Sure," Drew said, still laughing.

"Whatever. What I actually meant was, what are we going to do next? With the engagement? I've never been engaged before so you're the expert in this f-ield…" _Shoot. There I go, running my big mouth again._

"I guess I am," Drew agreed quietly.

Thinking about Drew remembering Brianna made me think about _him_. Would we have ever gotten married? Did he ever think about proposing to me? What would our wedding have looked like?

The mood in the hotel room had dropped to silent depression; neither of us seemed to know what to say after that. I wanted to apologise and say that I hadn't meant it like that – I was only teasing. But the words evaded me. Instead, I ended up saying:

"There is one thing I know about this engagement that you don't."

Drew looked up warily. "What's that?"

I began to grin. "My dad is going to _murder_ you. And my mum, _and_ my brother. So basically, you're screwed," I informed him brightly.

The tense atmosphere lifted as Drew's sad expression shifted to one of dread. "Oh, great. That's the thanks I get for spending nearly a thousand pounds on a separate hotel room for you, is it? Your whole family vying for my blood!"


	4. To Buy a Ring

**Chapter Four**

 **~ To Buy a Ring ~**

 _After the crashes_

 _After the smashes_

 _We're bleeding from gashes_

 _Too big to stitch up with 'sorry' now_

Since neither of us had a change of clothes and we both vehemently refused to leave the hotel in dressing gowns, Drew had sweet-talked one of the maids into getting us both a change of clothes from somewhere. (He also bribed her with a rather large tip.) They didn't fit perfectly but they were better than nothing, and we needed to go shopping anyway so they would do just for the day. On the way out of the hotel Drew had tried to ask the receptionist – not the lady from the night before, but an older woman with a large nose and caterpillar eyebrows that made me need to turn away to stifle a giggle – if there were any free rooms available on the fourth floor, but she had settled our argument by telling us that most of the rooms were booked for another couple of days yet. There were other rooms closer together, but seeing as neither of us wanted to move out of our current rooms Drew ended up just booking those for another week. (We'd decided to stay in the hotel until we'd figured out how to actually proceed with this insane plan.)

"What are we actually doing here?" I asked as we got off the bus in the town centre. "Apart from getting new clothes, I mean?"

Drew grinned, a mischievous twinkle appearing in his eyes. "Think about it: how does a guy usually propose to a girl?"

I clicked my tongue as I thought. "Er… On a beach at dusk with a trail of candles stuck into the sand leading up to him that the girl has to follow, and a circle of candles around him while he's on one knee? Ooh, and with a romantic note search the girl has to do before finally finding him on the beach! And in the summer, so it's not too cold. But at low tide, so the water doesn't put out the candles."

"Right… Not exactly what I meant. I'm not sure that's the most common way of proposing either, but I can see you've obviously had your perfect proposal planned for a while," he teased.

 _Wow… I guess I have. Maybe I did think I might marry_ him _after all…_

"What did you mean, then?"

Drew took my left hand from my side and held it up in front of me. "What does the guy propose _with_?"

 _Oh._ "A ring," I muttered. _My first answer was much more imaginative._

"Exactly," Drew said, satisfied. "We're going ring shopping."

"Yay?"

Drew shook his head at me. "You could be more enthusiastic, you know. If you don't smile when we're in the shop, then the shopkeeper is going to think I'm forcing you to marry me."

I pasted a bright smile onto my face. "Happy?"

"Yep."

We both began to walk at the same time – but in opposite directions.

"Where do you think you're going?" I called over my shoulder when I realised he wasn't following me.

Drew stopped. He turned around. He saw me halfway down the street in the opposite direction. And then he rolled his eyes. "Trust you to think you know where you're going," he called back.

"Excuse me? I've lived in this city my entire life – I think I know where I'm going!"

"So have I, and I have an impeccable sense of direction."

I placed my hands on my hips. "Okay, I'll admit that you _can_ get to the ring shop that way, but this way is quicker."

"Is it now?" Drew smirked. "How about we both go our own separate ways and see who gets there first? The winner gets bragging rights and the loser has to admit that the winner is always right and in future disagreements they will remember this argument and submit to the person who won it?"

"Hmm." _Would it be stupid of me to agree to that? Probably. But am I going to agree to it? Noooo…_ "Deal," I confirmed. "But – before you dash off – we should establish ground rules. And also swap phone numbers because I forgot which room you were in this morning and had to look all over for you, and I'd rather not have to search the whole town when you get lost," I finished, resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at him. I was a mature twenty-two-year-old, and mature adults did _not_ stick out their tongues at people. Instead, I settled for a smug, yet angelic, grin.

"Fine by me. Ground rules first – no running, I presume?"

"Yep. We have to walk at our normal paces or it's not a fair test. Also no asking strangers for directions if we get lost."

Drew laughed. "Yeah, talking to strangers really isn't a good idea for us, is it? The last time we each spoke to a stranger we ended up getting engaged to them!"

I laughed too – it was funny when he said it like that, and it was good to enjoy a joke. "Definitely no talking to strangers. And just to be clear so that there are no misunderstandings, the winner is the person who touches the door of the ring shop first. Okay?"

"Got it." Drew nodded, not seeming in the least bit threatened by the fierce game face I was wearing. "If you come here I'll give you my number."

I took my phone out of my pocket (it was the one possession I had actually had on me when I left last night – I never went anywhere without it) and brought up my contacts page. "You should come to me; I was the one who suggested it," I argued. The words were out of my mouth before I could think about what I was saying.

Drew raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? You're going to argue about this as well? Sheesh Airhead, is there anything you don't argue about?"

I glared at him. "Hey, it takes two to argue and I don't see you trying to compromise."

"I would make a compromise with someone who was reasonable."

"So you're saying I'm not 'reasonable'?"

"Yep," he said, popping the 'p'.

"Urgh – you're so aggravating!"

"You're more aggravating."

"Well you're a grasshead!"

"You're an airhead, and that's worse."

It took seeing him grin for me to realise that he wasn't invested in our argument at all – he was just winding me up. _Argh!_ I took a deep breath to calm myself down. _I am a responsible and mature adult, I am a responsible and mature adult,_ I chanted in my head. "So who's going to go to who then? Actually, don't even bother answering that. I'm the more responsible and _reasonable_ person here so I'll just come to you, shall I?"

"You do that," Drew said, still smirking. _Arrogant grasshead._

I walked the few metres back up the road, which thankfully wasn't busy or lots of people would have witnessed our fight, and that would have just been embarrassing. We were in the quieter part of town at the moment and the shops didn't start for a couple of streets. The ring shop was maybe a ten-minute walk from where we were at the moment – my way, that is. Drew's way, it was a good fifteen-minute hike.

"Here." I shoved my phone into Drew's hand.

He looked at me, eyebrows raised. "You're not even going to read it out to me? Are you really _that_ petty?"

"Yep," I said, popping the 'p'.

"Alright…" He added my number quickly, then gave my phone back. "I'll text you mine in a second."

"Okay. You can text it to me while I walk back to my starting pla-"

Before I had finished speaking, Drew had broken into a run, laughing, "Loser," at me over his shoulder.

For a second I watched him sprinting down the street, with a murderous glare on my face that would have stunned him if he'd been standing still. "Jerk!" I yelled after him, before taking off myself.

As I pounded down the road, crossed the street, turned a corner, and then jumped over the low fence that enclosed the park (who needs gates anyway?) in order to dash straight through the middle of it, I kept a running commentary of how arrogant, mean, petty, and horrible Drew was. It was those thoughts that gave my limbs the extra fuel they needed when they began to get tired, and it was an all-consuming desire to beat Drew that stopped me from turning around and chasing after him so I could tackle him to the ground and strangle him with my bare hands.

I was so caught up in hating Drew that when I reached the high street I ran right past the ring shop, almost completely forgetting about it. Skidding to a halt outside a chocolate shop (that I promised myself I would visit later), I turned back and was about to sprint the last few steps when I realised Drew was no-where in sight. Panting, I walked back to it and placed my hand on the door, wearing the king of smug grin a skitty would wear if it had just had a bowl of cream.

"Take that, Grasshead," I said triumphantly to no-one in particular. The couple passing me on the street gave me a weird look, but I didn't care. I'd beaten Drew (not that I was surprised), and I would get to see the look of utter defeat on his face when he finally arrived to see I had got there first. I couldn't wait.

However, I did have to wait, as seconds turned into minutes which turned into a quarter of an hour. _Where is he?_ I was beginning to get slightly worried. Even coming from the direction he had, he still should have arrived ages ago. I got out my phone to text him only to realise he hadn't texted me his number yet, because he'd wanted the head start instead.

"Drat. This is exactly what I was afraid of. I'm never going to find him now; Petalburg's massive," I muttered to myself. _Should I retrace my steps and hope he'll do the same? Should I wait here and hope he manages to find his way here? Should I go back to the hotel? – He has to go back there at some point… right?_

I jumped, startled out of my thoughts when my phone started ringing. Glancing at the screen, I frowned. It was an unknown number.

"Hello?" I asked, answering the call.

"Hey – May? Where are you?"

 _Hmm… That voice sounds suspiciously familiar…_

"Drew?" I asked warily.

"No, this is an ice cream man," answered the caller in a rather sarcastic tone of voice.

I was too relieved to be annoyed. "Thank goodness! I thought I was never going to find you again! Where are you? I've been waiting by the ring shop for _ages_ ," I burst out. A few people nearby gave me weird looks, but I ignored them.

"No you're not – I've been here for… fifteen – no – sixteen minutes and you're no-where in sight."

"Wait… what? You're at the ring shop? But you can't be, that's where I am. Hang on… Which street are you on?"

"Give me a second…" Drew (presumably) went to look for the street name. "Tonro Street?"

"Oh dear. I'm on Policon Street."

Realisation dawned on both of us, as we both said at the same time: "There are _two_ ring shops…"

"Well, I still got to mine first," I said in the most amiable tone I could whip up.

I could almost see Drew rolling his eyes. "We have no way to judge that, Airhead. Since you didn't call me when you got to yours-"

"I would have, if you have actually _texted me your number_!" I barely stopped myself from yelling down the phone. I got even more weird looks from strangers. "Mind your own business," I muttered, not loudly enough for them to hear me.

"Yeah, yeah. Just save it after this call. Now we have to decide who's going to come to who."

I narrowed my eyes before remembering he couldn't see me. "Not this again. I came to you last time, so you're coming to me this time. It's only fair."

"Um…" Drew fake-coughed, as if he was embarrassed. "I, umm, don't actually know where the ring shop you're at… actually is. I only knew of _this_ ring shop, which is why I, uh, came here," he muttered slowly.

A grin spread across my face. "Oh, really? So Mr-I-Have-An-Impeccable-Sense-Of-Direction's sense of direction is no longer impeccable?"

I couldn't resist – I began to laugh gleefully. And got _even more_ weird looks. What was wrong with people? Could they not see I was just on the phone?

"Shut up – I still have an impeccable sense of direction; I've just never heard of a second ring shop in Petalburg before. It's hardly my fault."

"Sure it's not. Sit tight, I'll be there in a jiffy."

"A jiffy? Who says 'jif-"

I ended the call, a smug look on my face.

* * *

"Well hello there, Little Miss Gullible," were Drew's first words upon my approach from the other side of the street.

I scowled, my good mood vanishing. "Don't tell me you just set me up," I growled, crossing the street in the most threatening way possible. (By hunching my shoulders, baring my teeth, and pretending my eyes were flashing red, like lasers.)

Drew just cocked an eyebrow. "As you wish. So are you ready to find the perfect ring?"

I crossed my arms grumpily. "Never readier," I all but snarled.

"Good, good." Drew pushed open the door, a charming smile on his face. "After you, my darling."

I stomped past him. "Thank you _so_ much, babykins," I cooed through gritted teeth.

Drew wrinkled his teeth. " _Please_ don't call me that."

I had stopped paying attention to him the moment I had taken a proper look around the shop. It was fairly new, and I had never been inside before – though I had passed it on the street several times. It didn't just sell rings; it also sold necklaces, bracelets, watches, and earrings. And they were _all_ sparkly. The whole shop glittered, like a glitzy treasure cove. It was beautiful. Forgetting all about Drew and his annoyingness, I dashed from wall to wall, trying to look at everything at once.

"Wow – they have so many pretty things – just _look_ at this bracelet – and this necklace – have you ever _seen_ anything so beautiful? – oh, and this watch is just – this necklace too! – oh my… is that… it is! It's an actual _diamond_! And this one is too! Oooh, just look at those sapphires – Drew – I think I'm in _heaven_."

Drew watched me with an amused smile. "May, you're making me dizzy just watching you."

There were a couple of other people in the shop, who I caught staring at me out of the corner of my eye, but I was too happy to care.

"Drew!" I ran back to him, and took him by surprise by clasping his hands in my own. "I forgive you for tricking me into coming here," I said, completely sincere. "In fact, I should thank you!"

"Uh… You're welcome?" Drew's face was tinged with a faint shade of pink. Was he embarrassed? I giggled, and let go of his hands. He appeared to breathe a little sigh of relief.

"Excuse me," said a calm voice from behind me, causing me to let out a little squeak of surprise. I hurriedly turned around to see a short, stout old man with white hair gelled up into a couple of spikes on his head and a moustache-beard which covered the whole of his lower face standing there, dressed in what almost reassembled a yellow builder's all-in-one, though it was made of lighter fabric, with an open camouflage shirt over the top. He had long, thin eyebrows that arched like maniacs above his eyes, and his mouth was open in a toothy grin to reveal a perfect set of white teeth. "Are you two looking for anything in particular, or would you just like to browse?"

"Um… Are you the shop owner?" Drew asked uncertainly.

"Hang on – aren't you Wattson, the Electric Type Gym Leader of Mauville?" I interrupted.

The old man apprised me with a secretive smile. "Ah, we have quite a worldly young lady here, don't we? Indeed, I used to be Mauville's Gym Leader, it's true. Did you, perhaps, challenge me, at some point? Forgive me – my memory is not as good as it used to be."

I shook my head. "I'm a coordinator actually, but my friend, Ash, challenged you while we were travelling. You're _the cheerfully electrifying man_!"

Wattson beamed. "Haha! Indeed, I am! Now, how can I help you's two?"

I frowned. "Do you own this shop now? What happened to your Gym?"

If possible, Wattson's grin became even brighter. "I left it! I fancied an electrifying change in my life, and I thought, what's more electrifying than precious jewels? So I opened up this store!"

"Wow, good on you," I said with a bemused smile.

"Anyway…" Drew had been quiet up until now, and I wondered if it was because, for once, he didn't know what to say because he was unfamiliar with everything relevant to pokémon trainers. I saved up that idea to use at a later date when he tried to act like he knew so much more than I did. "We were just looking for an engagement ring, since my proposal was kind of on the spur of the moment and I didn't manage to get one beforehand."

I snickered. 'Spur of the moment' was one way to put it…

Behind us, the door of the shop banged closed. I winced at the loud noise. Some people were so inconsiderate.

"May?" croaked a male voice from directly behind me. "You're… you're getting _married_?"

 _Oh, no…_

I pivoted slowly to face the man who had just walked in. All the colour drained from my face. It was _him_.

"G-Gary? What are you doing here?" I asked weakly.

Sensing tension, Wattson squeaked something about 'leaving us to browse' and scurried off.

I knew I would have to face _him_ at some point. I just didn't expect that time to be quite so soon.


	5. Official

**Chapter Five**

 **~ Official ~**

 _But I am_

 _I'm sorry_

 _I didn't think that this would be_

 _The bitter end of you and me_

I felt Drew take a step closer to me, but I didn't look at him – I couldn't tear my eyes away from the shocked face of my ex-boyfriend.

"I – I was just – you're getting _married_?" he asked again, disbelief colouring his breaking voice.

I was frozen. My heart was pumping blood around my body faster than I could inhale oxygen. It made me lightheaded. "I – I – It's not what it – Gary?" I repeated numbly. I couldn't think; I could barely breathe. _What's he doing here?_ was whizzing around my brain so loudly it was a miracle no-one else could hear it.

 _His hair is still spiked to perfection,_ I noted vaguely, _and he doesn't have bags under his eyes._ But his skin had turned just as pale as mine.

Both of us fell silent, not knowing what to say.

It was then that Drew chose to speak up, asking me, "Is this the guy you broke up with?"

I nodded dumbly.

Drew took a long, thoughtful look at Gary. "Aren't you Gary _Oak_ , Professor Oak's grandson?"

"He hates being referred to as Professor Oak's grandson," I murmured.

"I don't like being referred to as Professor Oak's grandson," Gary said at the same time.

For a fleeting second we shared a slight smile. Those smiles faded when we realised what we were doing, and pain pierced my heart afresh.

"Why are you in a ring shop, Gary?" I asked quietly. I was aware of Drew stepping closer to me out of my peripheral vision, but all of my focus was on the man in front of me.

Gary hesitated. His eyes darted around the store before landing back on mine. "It's not just a ring shop. It sells all kinds of jewelry. And I could ask you the same question."

I bit my lip. "Who are you buying jewelry for, Gary?"

In the silence that followed, all I could hear was the _thud, thud, thud_ of my heart, filling my ears with thunder.

"May… Can we talk? What happened yesterday-"

"No," I said suddenly, anger shooting through me. Drew, sensing the change in my emotions, took another step closer to me as if to protect me, but I didn't need protection anymore – I could fight this battle by myself. "There's nothing to talk about, Gary. I'm getting engaged to Drew, who I love with all my heart and who loves me more than he can ever express in words. Once we've written the invitations, I'll send you one through the post." My words were spiteful darts aimed at Gary's heart; by the look of his face they found their target.

Grabbing Drew's hand and roughly linking our fingers, I added to my fiancé, "Come on – I'm in the mood for a hotdog."

Before Gary could protest, I shoved past him and flung open the door. Dragging Drew behind me, I barely managed to stop myself from running down the street. Instead I confined myself to a fast walk that forced Drew to almost skip to keep up with me.

* * *

After buying hotdogs from a stand in the park and seating ourselves on a bench under a great oak tree without exchanging a single word, Drew finally broke the silence.

"So, hotdogs are your go-to food, then?"

I glared at him, taking an angry bite from the warm, ketchup-covered sausage-in-a-roll. "My go-to food?"

"Yeah, you know, when you're upset, hotdogs are what cheer you up?"

"I'm not upset," I snapped, feeling hot tears forming in the backs of my eyes.

Drew raised an eyebrow. "Try telling me that when you don't look like you're about to flood the area and I might believe you," he said calmly.

I swallowed and lowered the half-eaten hotdog from my lips. "I'm not about to cry."

"Really?" He didn't sound convinced.

"Really," I said stubbornly while wiping away a tear with the back of my hand.

Drew reached out to stroke the back of my hand soothingly. "You can talk to me," he said softly.

 _I can't_ , I thought adamantly. _You won't understand._

After a few seconds of the wind rustling our hair, tangling mine and lifting Drew's out of his eyes, Drew spoke again. "Do you mind me asking what happened between you two?"

I realised then that while I knew a fair bit about Drew's break-up, he knew virtually nothing of mine. I wanted to deny him the information – if I didn't say it out loud then I could put off confronting my own feelings for a little while longer – but looking at his soft face and gentle eyes, the abrupt desire to share the weight on my heart overcame me.

"I first met Gary five years ago," I began in a voice so quiet Drew had to lean closer to hear me. "I was seventeen. My friend Dawn and I were visiting Ash – a friend we'd both traveled with at different points – in his hometown, and since Gary lived there too we ran into him. Dawn wanted to catch up with him and dragged me along. He… He was really charming. And handsome," I added with a faintly bitter laugh. Drew was watching me attentively, but I couldn't read his expression.

"Anyway, we got to know each other. Dawn really admired him and for a while I thought she liked him, but she confessed she had feelings for – someone else. The three of us – well, four of us, since Ash was also with us – we became friends. Then Misty joined our group. She's a good person but she didn't think much of Gary, and whenever she dissed him I defended him. I didn't think I liked him romantically, but he was… sweet. No boys had ever been interested in me before; it was all so new and, I don't know, exciting. He told me things he'd never told anyone else before and we became really close. He even met my parents – though that was mostly just because he's a pokémon researcher and Dad's a Gym Leader. So it was business, but Dad told me himself that he approved of him.

"I was nineteen when he asked me out. I was confused because I'd heard that he'd had a crush on some girl called Leaf for years, but when I asked him about it he said that… that ever since he'd met me she had been the furthest thing from his m-mind. And I- and I believed…" I stopped. I couldn't ignore the lump growing in my throat anymore. If I had tried to say another word I would have started to cry uncontrollably. And I was sick of crying.

Wordlessly, Drew brushed a few tears from my cheek. "It's okay. I think I can guess the rest. He cheated on you with Leaf?"

I shook my head, and he looked confused. "So what did he do?"

I shook my head again, and took a small bite of my hotdog. It was cold. I ate it anyway.

Drew shifted away from me slightly to eat his hotdog too, and we ate in a comfortable silence. When we'd both finished, I was the first to speak. "Should we go shopping now?" I asked tentatively. I needed a distraction. "We both need clothes…"

"Sure." Drew stood up quickly and then offered me a hand. I took it with a small smile and he pulled me easily to me feet. We threw our napkins in a bin on our way out, and with them went a few painful memories.

* * *

It was after we had just finished getting the clothes we needed (Drew had bought clothes too because he didn't want to go home to fetch some, he wanted to just stay with me at the hotel, and it would be weird for me to go to his house when I barely knew him) that my phone began to ring. Drew had paid since I still didn't have any money (though I made a note of how much I owed him, determined to pay him back eventually), and we were walking back to the bus stop.

"Are you going to answer that?" Drew asked after I glanced at the screen. I promptly put it back in my pocket, still ringing.

"No."

"Why? Is it…?"

I shook my head. "It's okay, you can say his name. But no, it's not Gary."

"So who is it then?"

"My friend, Dawn."

"Right..."

My phone finished ringing, and for a moment we continued walking in silence. Until the ringing started up again.

"She sounds determined," Drew commented.

"I suppose."

"Why don't you want to answer it? She's still your friend, right?"

I looked at him. "You ask a lot of questions."

"Well, your phone is annoying me. At least put it on silent."

"I can't put it on silent while it's ringing."

"Why not?"

"Because it's locked and I can't unlock it while it's ringing."

"So just slide the button down."

"What button?"

Drew rolled his eyes. "Give it here," he said, holding out a hand expectantly.

"No, it's fine, it'll stop ringing in a moment."

And it did. But as soon as I had withdrawn it from my pocket and was tapping in the code to unlock it (carefully shielding the pin from Drew's eyes), it began to ring again.

"Just give it here," Drew said impatiently.

"No, I told you, it can't be unlocked-"

"So answer it!"

"No! – Hey! Give it back!"

Drew stole the phone from my unsuspecting grasp, and before I could pounce on him to wrestle it back he pressed the answer button. "Hello?"

I glowered at him. I tried to snatch the phone back, but he dodged around my flailing hands and began to walk faster.

"Oh, I'm Drew – May's fiancé."

 _That little…_

"Give it back!" I hissed, grabbing his other arm. I could hear Dawn exclaiming on the other end of the phone from two feet away, and I groaned loudly.

He shook me off and flashed me a smirk. "It is quite sudden, but really, she's been head over heels for me for years now… Oh, she didn't tell you? How rude of her. Though, I thought you both used to watch me on TV… That's me – Drew Hayden – no, this isn't a joke… Ow!"

I had approached sneakily from behind and launched myself onto his arm that was holding my phone up to his ear. He shot me an affronted look, cradling his arm close to his chest, as I wiggled my eyebrows at him smugly.

"Drew? Hello? Drew?" Dawn was saying as I put the phone to my own ear.

"Hey, Dawn, it's me," was all I managed to say before she began shrieking. I held the phone away from my ear and lowered the volume.

"MAY! HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME YOU KNOW DREW HAYDEN? IS IT ACTUALLY HIM? WHY IS HE SAYING YOU'RE ENGAGED? I LITERALLY JUST RAN INTO GARY WHO SAID YOU BROKE UP! SINCE WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN? MAY? MAY, ANSWER ME!"

"I will, if you give me a chance!" I exclaimed, shooting Drew a glare. He, having recovered after my attack and heard every word she had screamed, just ran a hand through his hair and smirked at me. "Okay, okay, Gary and I broke up yesterday – we had an argument, but that's not important now – I ran into Drew on the street – No, I didn't recognise him at first - well, he had just broken up with…" I paused and glanced at Drew. His expression hadn't changed, but I was _not_ going to put my foot in my mouth again. "He was having a rough time, and long story short, we got engaged."

"Long story short?" Dawn echoed. "May! I want the long story! With all the details! You can't just-"

"Eh-heh," I laughed nervously. "Sorry Dawn, gotta go, we'll have to catch up later. Bye!"

"No! May! Don't you dare-"

I cut her off midsentence, my face the shade of a tomato. Rounding on Drew, I shouted: "What did you do that for? Now I have to try and explain this mess to her, when I don't even understand it myself!"

Drew shrugged. His hands were in his pockets and he looked the very picture of casualness. "What? We're engaged, we can't hide it from people forever. I figure it's better to tell them sooner rather than later. Besides, your ringtone was getting on my nerves."

My glare deepened. "But it's the standard ringtone."

"Exactly. It's so loud. And obnoxious. And-"

"It's just 'ring, ring, ring'! What's so bad about that?"

"Everything," Drew stated.

"Whatever. Look, the point is, I wasn't ready to tell her yet. Or anyone, for that matter."

Drew raised an eyebrow. "You told Gary."

"That – that was different," I spluttered, taken aback by his calm statement.

I hadn't noticed how far we had walked while we were arguing until I saw the bus stop was only a few metres away.

"Not really. You said Gary and Dawn are friends – did you think he wouldn't tell her when he next got the chance? It's better she hears it from you than your bitter ex."

Drew's argument actually made a lot of sense. And now that he wasn't trying to purposely annoy me anymore, I found myself calming down too. "I guess so," I admitted reluctantly. "But it was still wrong of you to tell her for me."

"Maybe," he said, in a voice that suggested he knew something I didn't.

I frowned at him. "What do you mean, 'maybe'? It was wrong – she's my friend, and I wanted to tell her in my own time."

The bus roared to a stop beside the pavement just as I finished speaking, and Drew stepped onto it without answering my question. I followed hurriedly, badgering him to explain himself, but he refused to talk until we had sat down – and, I noted in annoyance, _he_ took the window seat.

Finally, he turned to me, looking me directly in the eyes. I swallowed, feeling suddenly nervous. "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have answered your phone," he began in a low voice, so none of the other passengers could overhear us.

"But?" I asked apprehensively, wanting to look away from his emerald-eyed stare but not quite able to bring myself to.

Drew smiled. "But it sure took your mind off what happened in the ring shop earlier. You were traipsing around the shops with such a sad expression on your face that you looked like a kicked poochyena. Now your face reassembles an outraged ursaring's instead."

He sounded really sweet up until that last sentence. I began to growl at him, but that just made him laugh.

"Now you sound like an ursaring too."

"Oh, shut up."

A minute or two of silence passed, with Drew gazing out the window and me looking absently around at the other passengers. There was an old couple sitting a couple of seats in front of us, a young woman across the aisle, and three middle aged men wearing business suits right at the back. They gave me a funny look when they caught me staring, and I quickly turned back around. I leaned closer to Drew to whisper, "There are some weird men at the back of the bus," and giggle.

Drew rolled his eyes at me. "Sure there are…" He glanced over his shoulder, and I felt his arm stiffen next to mine. "Oh dear," he breathed, quickly turning back to me. "They're not 'weird men', May, they're-"

"My Hayden?" a deep, serious voice asked. We both turned around slowly to see one of the men in a business suit leaning forward with a curious gaze. He wore a smart top hat underneath which dark, frizzy purple hair was poking out. The sight would have been comical, if I hadn't been regretting drawing their attention to us,

"You _know_ them?" I whisper-squeaked.

Drew gave a short nod. "Good afternoon, Mr Curtly. I hope you're well?" He didn't sound panicked – his voiced managed to emulate an appropriately surprised yet formal tone perfectly – but I could still feel the stiffness of his arm against mine.

"Very well, thank you. Do you mind if I ask who this nice young lady with you is?"

I would have been flattered, but Drew was acting strangely and it was making me uncomfortable.

"No, no of course not – this is May, my fiancée," Drew said smoothly. His arm loosened and he seemed to have taken hold of his emotions, but something still didn't seem right.

The man's thick, black eyebrows lifted. "Oh? I thought your fiancée was the coordinator Brianna Wakana?"

Drew's expression remained unfazed, but he shifted a little in his seat. "No. Those were just rumours spread by gossip magazines. I can assure you, May is my fiancée."

The man turned his curious eyes towards me. "My apologies – I haven't met you yet, have I? My name is Curtis Curtly, the owner of Co-Watch. These fellows here are some old friends of mine – but I won't bore you with the details, I'm sure Drew has told you all about us."

 _Whoa - he founded Co-Watch?_ Co-Watch was a business that specialised in everything a coordinator could ever dream of needing, and I had always been a big fan.

"Uh…" I glanced at Drew, who nodded quickly.

"Of course I have," he filled in, nudging me.

"Y-yeah! Oh, and I'm the daughter of Norman Maple, the Petalburg City Gym Leader," I hastened to add. "It's very nice to meet you at last."

Mr Curtly nodded approvingly. "I see. I presume you are following in your father's footsteps?"

I hesitated. "Actually, Mr Curtly, I'm a coordinator, just like Drew."

The aforementioned coordinator shot me a glance, barely managing to hide his surprise. But he recovered well, adding, "Indeed. It's one of the reason I fell in l-love with her." He stumbled slightly over the L-word, but swiftly continued: "The fact we both wish to follow different paths to our fathers is something we have in common. I am certain that as my wife she will be just the encouragement I need to make great waves in the world of business," he finished calmly, though I didn't need to put my hand over his heart in that moment to know that it was beating extremely irregularly.

Mr Curtly didn't seem to notice Drew's distress. "Good, good. I look forward to learning more about her over dinner tomorrow."

 _Wait… What?_

"Dinner tomorrow?" I queried nervously.

Mr Curtly smiled at me – but somehow I didn't feel reassured. "Didn't Drew tell you?"

"It must have slipped my mind," Drew put in quickly. "I have been quite busy lately, dealing with accounts-"

"Yes, yes," Mr Curtly said, cutting him off. "Well, May, last week I invited Drew and his fiancée to dine with me, to discuss the future of our businesses. I _do_ hope you don't have a prior engagement?"

"No, no," I said faintly. Drew stuck his elbow into my ribs, and I shot him a quick side-ways glare before smiling back at Mr Curtly. "It will be my p-pleasure to attend."

"Good, good. Ah, I do believe this is our stop, gentlemen. Good day, Mr Hayden, Miss Maple." Mr Curtly pressed the 'stop' button and stood up, making his way to the front of the bus with a grace I would not had suspected of a man of his age, along with the other two men.

Drew sat back in his seat, watching them leave. I hardly dared to speak until they had gone.

"What just _happened_?" I asked, unable to make sense of anything.

Drew gave me a tired look. "What just happened is that you and I just became official."

"Official?"

"No backing out now, May. To put it simply, those are the people are the reason Brianna thought she could blackmail me into staying with her – because if I don't get married, they won't make the business deal with me. And if they don't do that, then my father will disinherit me. So yeah – our engagement just became official."


	6. Contest Blues

**Chapter Six**

 **~ Contest Blues ~**

 _My wildest nightmares_

 _Never warned me_

 _One day we would cease to care_

We were quiet all the way back to the hotel. At half past six Drew asked if I wanted to eat in the restaurant. I said yes.

We ordered our meals quickly. I hardly tasted the food.

We ordered desert.

One of us had to speak; the silence was unbearable. Drew wasn't looking at me. He was studying the scenic pictures decorating the walls of the classy eatery as if he were a painting connoisseur. Maybe he was.

"Drew…" I muttered at last. "I just think we haven't really thought this through."

The green-haired coordinator turned towards me with narrowed eyes. "It's a bit late to be having doubts, May. I just told the man who is either going to make me or _break_ me that you and I are getting married. There's no going back from there."

Somehow, the mood had gone from being lighthearted and (somewhat) carefree on the bus to solemn and serious, and I wasn't sure how to deal with this side of Drew. Arrogant Drew, sad Drew, happy Drew, and playful Drew were all Drews I could deal with. But serious Drew? This was new.

I lowered my head to the palm of my hand, leaning my elbow on the fancy lace cloth covering the polished, dark wood table. I began to speak, but the arrival of a waiter stalled me.

"Here are your deserts, sir and madam. I hope they are to your liking." He placed a large slice of some sort of chocolate cake laden with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles in front of me. I couldn't remember what it was called – I could barely remember ordering it; my thoughts were so tangled. That was worrying – since when did food start to become a less important aspect of my life?

In front of Drew he laid a simple cheesecake, garnished with a mint leaf and a dash of caramel on the plate. Both deserts looked delicious. I wished I was feeling hungry.

"Thank you," I said quietly. Drew nodded his thanks too. The waiter left, but neither Drew nor I began to eat.

I lifted my spoon, absently cutting the cake into little bits like I used to do when I was a child. Drew went back to his picture-gazing.

"Can I just have a little time? To think?" I asked eventually.

Drew swung his head back to me. "Think fast," was his short reply. He stood up abruptly.

"Where are you going?" I called as he walked away, past other dining guests. He didn't answer. I didn't know if he had even heard me.

Looking back at the table, at our uneaten deserts, and thinking about the meals we had mindlessly consumed, I made a face. _I hope I'm not expected to pay for these…_ Sneaking a quick glanced around the dimly-lit restaurant to make sure no waiters were looking my way, I slipped out of my seat and scurried hurriedly from the room. They would just have to put it on Drew's tab.

I didn't see Drew at all after that. I went straight to my room, had a long bath, and went to bed early. It was hard to sleep. There were too many things on my mind: the engagement, Gary, the engagement, Dawn, the engagement, the dinner tomorrow, and the engagement.

Waking up the next morning, I felt a lot better than I had yesterday. After a room service breakfast, I made my way to Drew's room with a smile on my face. I was ready to talk.

But he wasn't there. His door was locked and there was no reply when I knocked, even though I knocked loudly and continuously for several minutes. He may have just been ignoring me, but seeing as he needed me to go to this dinner with him, it didn't make sense for him to be just ignoring me. _I guess he's left already_ , I thought, feeling strangely like he had let me down. But I shook the unsettling feeling off and tried to proceed logically, my next move being to ask reception what they knew.

"He left about an hour ago," the receptionist told me unhelpfully as I stood awkwardly in the foyer, watching an elegantly dressed older couple glide past me. I felt under-dressed in the cheap blue jeans and red jumper I had purchased (with Drew's money) yesterday.

"Did he saw where he was going?"

"No, sorry. Is there a problem?" she asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. She was the same receptionist who was there when Drew and I first arrived, and the way she was looking all innocently curious made me want to squirm uncomfortably.

"Not that you can help me with," I muttered under my breath.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "I'm just going to go… for a walk," I gabbled, and hastily left the hotel.

* * *

It was colder than I had thought it would be outside, and I shivered as I picked up the pace. I didn't have a coat.

There weren't many people out and about on the streets – in fact the street I was hurrying down was pretty bare. It consisted only of houses, streetlamps, and telephone posts.

I supposed Drew might have gone to the park… Though I couldn't think why he might have gone there. He had seemed pretty mad last night, but not _that_ upset. And I highly doubted he would have gone back to Brianna's house. _Though, it is a possibility... No. No, he won't be there._ Then there was the shopping centre, or the ring shop. Why he would go there, I didn't know. _So he's not going to be there then,_ I thought resignedly, _I'm back to square one._

As I turned a corner my phone vibrated in my pocket, and I perked up. Maybe it was Drew!

I stopped.

"I'm an idiot," I muttered, fighting the urge to facepalm. Why didn't I think of texting him first? I had his number now!

But when I looked at the text, I groaned.

 _Hey May! You still going to the contest this afternoon? We should catch up afterwards, since there's a LOT we need to catch up on! Hope to see you there!_

 _\- Dawn_

Of course it would be Dawn. It wasn't that I wasn't happy to hear from my best friend exactly, it was just that I had a lot going on right now, and having to manage my over-dramatic friend wasn- _Wait… did she say CONTEST?_

"Of course!" I exclaimed, to no-one in particular. Excited by the eureka moment exploding in my brain, I quickly called Dawn's number.

"May?" Dawn sounded surprised – _probably because I was so short with her yesterday_ , I thought guiltily, and promised myself to make it up to her later.

"Hey, that contest you mentioned – what time does it start?"

"Oh, um, two O' clock, I think. Did you forget about it? I thought you said you were really looking forward to it last week."

 _Oh, yeah._ "I guess I was, but a lot has happened since then. I'll definitely see you there, but, uh, I have a small problem…"

"What's wrong?" Dawn was instantly sympathetic, and I began to feel even worse about the way I blew her off yesterday.

"I kinda left my pokémon at Gary's- I mean, my house when I stormed off the other day, and, well, I just don't really want to face Gary yet… um, could you, maybe…"

"Get your pokémon for you?" Dawn asked, catching on. "Of course! No need to worry, I'll get them to you before the contest. Where'd you wanna meet?"

A relieved smile broke on my face. Dawn always had my back. "How about the pokémon centre at one O' clock? That way I can still have time to get them checked up quickly before the contest, and we can walk over together? In the meantime, I have to register – uh-oh, I hope I'm not too late!"

Dawn laughed lightly. "Only you, May. 'Kay, I'll see you there. Bye!" She ended the call and I put the phone back in my pocket before launching myself into a mad sprint to the nearest bus stop.

* * *

I arrived, breathless, in the pokémon centre at quarter to one. Phew! I'd made it, with several minutes to spare. And, for once, I was actually early for meeting Dawn. I took a seat at the side to get out of the way of the stream of people queuing to get their pokémon checked up. I began to get slightly worried about the line of roughly fifteen people waiting for Nurse Joy to see them – would she have time to see mine before the contest? – but a flash of purple at the corner of my vision caught my eye. Turning my head, I saw a familiar face lingering in the shadows (of which there were not many, because pokémon centres tended to be well-lit, but somehow he had managed to find some – I supposed his very nature must attract shadows wherever he goes).

"Paul?" I said loudly before I could really think it through. His head turned towards my voice, but he didn't seem to see me. I half-expected him not to recognise me; after all, we'd only met a couple of times before, and both those times were brief. And he had never given the impression that he enjoyed chatting or making new friends. But since I'd already called out to him, I couldn't shrink away now. "Hey Paul, it's me – May," I said brightly, jumping up from my seat and springing over to him.

Recognition flashed reluctantly in his dark grey eyes. "I know who you are," he muttered. "You're Dawn's friend."

"Yep!" I smiled happily. "So what brings you here? You don't exactly strike me at the sort of person who likes passing time inside pokémon centres when you could be out training – unless you're waiting for a pokémon to be healed? Oh, no," I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth. "Is one of your pokémon hurt? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-" I began, the words tumbling haphazardly out of my mouth as I panicked, thinking I'd gone and said the wrong thing again. _I_ really _have to stop doing that_.

"My pokémon are fine," Paul snapped.

"Oh." My shoulders relaxed in relief – I hadn't gone and screwed things up again! "Well, good. I'm glad to hear it. So, what are you doing here?"

"None of your business," he grunted.

I waited a moment, but he didn't say anything else. Beginning to regret my decision to come and talk to him, I decided to try and alleviate the awkwardness of the silence and keep the conversation going until I could think of an excuse to leave – or until Dawn got here.

"I'm waiting for Dawn," I explained casually. "She's fetching my pokémon for me bec-"

" _You're_ waiting for Dawn?" Paul cut in rudely.

I blinked, surprised by his sudden outburst. If it had been anyone else I might have retorted in the same manner, but Paul's six-foot-three height and muscular frame accompanied by unfriendly eyes and unsmiling face were more than slightly intimidating. I found myself almost squeaking a reply. "Y-yeah? Why?"

His eyes darkened into a glare, but it wasn't aimed at me. Instead, he focused on a pot plant by Nurse Joy's desk. "Your _friend_ was badgering me for ages to battle her. I said I'd meet her here today at twelve thirty. She didn't show." He let out an almost inhumane growl of annoyance. "Now I've wasted valuable time waiting for her." He began to stomp past me, but paused to add, "Tell her she's lost her only chance." Then he continued his path out of the pokémon centre, with people hurrying out of his way. No-one, not even strangers, wanted to cross Paul when he had a look that thunderous on his face.

I stood there, reeling from what had just happened. _Oh, no… What have I done?... Dawn finally got her chance to battle with Paul… She's been trying to get him to agree to it for more than two years now… What have I done? I just completely screwed things up for her…_

I dropped my face into my hands. Dawn had offered to help me so quickly that I hadn't paused to consider that she might have already have plans. But she had dropped them instantly to help me anyway. _I'm the worst friend in the world._

"May! Hey, there you are – I didn't see you at first," Dawn's cheerful voice chirped from behind me.

My heart sunk; an anchor in my chest. Lifting my head from my hands and slowly pivoting, I took one look at the grin on her face and wanted the ground to swallow me whole.

"Hey," I greeted unenthusiastically.

She didn't appear to notice the look on my face, and instead began telling me what had happened with Gary. "I'm sorry, but Gary wouldn't let me take your pokémon. He said that if you want them back you're going to have to get them yourself – I would have argued more with him, but it was getting late and I figured you could always just withdraw some pokémon from the centre PC… May? Are you okay? You look kinda sad… Do you want me to go back to Gary and force him to give your pokémon back? Because they are your pokémon, he can't actually stop you from getting them back." The determination in her voice made me feel even worse, if that was possible. She was so focused on cheering me up that she probably hadn't even thought about the fact she was supposed to be battling Paul right now.

"No, it's not that," I admitted, "it's just when I got here I noticed… I saw Paul and he told me he was waiting for you."

Dawn's eyes widened. Her mouth opened. Her skin paled. "I completely forgot!" she gasped, horror flooding her eyes. "Was he mad? I didn't mean to stand him up – he knows that, right?"

My stomach was twisting itself in knots just listening to her. I hated what I had to tell her next, but I couldn't lie. "Y-yeah, he was pretty mad. He said that you've, um, l-lost your chance," I related nervously. "I'm sorry – I'm really, really sorry – I didn't know you'd arranged to meet him or I would never have asked you to go to Gary for me. I know how much this battle would have meant to you," I tried to apologise, but even to me it sounded lousy.

Dawn sighed and shook her head. "It's not your fault, you weren't to know. You've got so much else going on right now – which, by the way, I want to hear all about after the contest!" she shot me a mock-glare, but it was a half-hearted attempt. "Anyway, there's not much we can do now. I'll try to find him later to explain, but right now we should both be getting ready for the contest. Maybe it'll take our minds off things. Especially since you need to decide which pokémon to use."

"Right," I nodded, but I didn't feel any better about the situation. Dawn pasted a smile on her face, but I could tell it was forced. I seemed to be screwing up left, right, and centre at the moment.

* * *

"Take the stage, Glaceon!"

It wasn't until the Ice Type had landed elegantly on the stage in front of me, one forepaw crossed neatly over the other one, with the crowd cheering us on and the judges watching eagerly from their panel, that I came to the horrible realisation: _I forgot to plan my appeal!_

When I didn't do anything next, Glaceon glanced at me over her shoulder with questioning blue eyes. I gulped. I'd been so preoccupied; it had just completely slipped my mind that I needed to plan an appeal.

"Er…" I looked nervously out at the crowd, whose cheers died down pretty quickly when they saw me just standing there. It was eerily silent. And so completely and utterly obvious that I had no idea what I was doing. _Why did I think this was a good idea? Oh, yeah… Because Drew might be here. But I could have just joined the audience or-_

"Miss Maple?" I jumped as Vivian's voice echoed loudly throughout the contest hall. "Feel free to begin whenever you're ready."

A red flush began working its way up my neck. They thought I had stage fright. _Well, in a way, I sort of do…_

"R-right. Glaceon, use Blizzard," I commanded, hoping no-one had noticed my stammer. I wasn't exactly unknown in Coordinator circles and I'd competed in this Contest Hall several times before, so it was even more embarrassing than it would have been if no-one knew me at all. But I was certain Vivian, the host, recognised me – and the judges too. _This really could not be any worse,_ I thought dejectedly.

Glaceon let out a confident purr and crouched down. As she jumped high into the air, she twirled and a blizzard of wind and ice began swirling around her. I vaguely remembered practicing this with her a few weeks ago, but as hard as I stared into the whirling storm I just couldn't remember which move would work well in a combination with Blizzard.

The crowd let out oohs and aahs as they watched Glaceon spinning gracefully inside the twister she had created, but all too soon I felt their eyes drifting back to me once more. Darn.

"Uh… Glaceon, now use… erm… Ice Shard?" I ended up phrasing what should have been an order as a question, and with all the hesitating I'd done I wouldn't be surprised if the judges marked me down just for my uncertainty. A Coordinator should always have faith in themselves and their pokémon, and I was displaying the opposite of that right now. And I wasn't a little girl anymore, so they wouldn't let me off because of 'nerves'.

But Glaceon didn't stumble with my doubt-filled voice; instead she shot shards of ice upwards so they crashed through the blizzard, effectively finishing it off and causing pretty silver snow to shower down over the stage. Glaceon landed neatly in the middle, bowing her head, with her eyes closed in satisfaction at pulling the move off. The crowd began to cheer again, but I couldn't bring myself to bow along with Glaceon. I had been pathetic throughout the whole thing. If it wasn't for Glaceon being as amazing as she was, we would both be a laughing stock right now. The moves didn't even work well together – they were basically the same move, only Ice Shard didn't involve wind as well.

As I joined Glaceon centre stage so the judges could give us their score, I couldn't help the feeling of dread building in my stomach. "You were amazing Glaceon," I told her, trying to sound happy. She lifted her head proudly. She had done a good job, and she knew it. She deserved to feel proud.

The judges were finally ready to tell us their scores, and I waited with trembling knees. They appeared one after the other on the small screens in front of the judging panel in quick succession.

 **6.4** "Your choice of moves could have been better."

 **7.1** "Glaceon executed the moves stunningly! She really made the routine shine!"

 **6.2** "You lacked confidence, but I can tell Glaceon's been trained well."

Those were all the comments, spoken after each score flashed up.

The total flashed on the big screen for everyone to see.

 **6.5**

I stared at it. _Six. Point. Five._ The worst score I'd had since I first began participating in Contests. There was no doubt it would have been much worse if Glaceon hadn't acted so perfectly. It might even have been lower than a five… I really owed Glaceon – when we got back to the hotel I would make sure she got to eat her favourite pokéblock.

The score wasn't the worst part though. As I trudged off stage, Glaceon at my side with her head hanging low in disappointment that we hadn't got a better score, a flash of green hair in the corner of my eye alerted me to Drew's presence. I lifted my head to see him leaning against the wall in the corridor leading away from the stage and back to the dressing rooms. His arms were folded and his head was ducked, although as I approached he looked up.

"Well, that was a disaster," he scoffed.

He must have been watching the whole thing from the wings. I tried to stutter a defense, but he continued mercilessly.

"You have no style. If it wasn't for your Glaceon that would have been total humiliation. You're lucky that at least _one_ of you knows what she's doing. When you told me you were a Coordinator, I thought you'd at least be decent. I can't believe I have to marry _this_." He wore an expression of disgust on his face, and I felt tears looming in the corners of my eyes. Somehow this was even worse than my embarrassment on stage. _This_ was what made me want to cry; _this_ was what tore down the last shreds of my self-esteem, which had been plummeting for a while.

Because it didn't matter what the judges thought; it didn't matter that I'd let Glaceon down or that I'd embarrassed myself in front of a crowd. What mattered was that Drew, who had been a stranger to me two days ago but had since then been the only thing holding me together after Gary destroyed what I had made my life to be, had known all about all the things I was going through and yet he still wanted to make sure I knew exactly how terrible my appeal had been. I knew I couldn't live up to his standard of Coordinating. I knew he was always going to be better at it than me. But he didn't have to shove it down my throat when I was already a mess.

I stood there, staring down at my feet, letting his insults wash over me. Glaceon pawed my leg worriedly, and I watched as she narrowed her eyes at Drew. I watched Drew's feet walk away, and when I couldn't see them without raising my head I listened to his footsteps down the empty corridor.

Then they stopped. I began to look up, thinking he was out of earshot, but he wasn't. He was standing at the end of the corridor with his back facing me. I blinked, and wiped away the tears that were starting to fall. If he turned around I didn't want him to catch me crying. I'd suffered enough humiliation already.

Suddenly, without warning, he lifted his arm and tossed something over his shoulder. It landed on the floor between us, but I couldn't see what it was without getting a closer look.

"For Glaceon," he said simply. "She deserves a prize for her performance, at least."

Then he was gone.

I looked down at Glaceon, who was looking up at me with puzzled eyes. "Glace, Glaceon," she mewed.

Together we approached the object thrown on the floor. I realised what it was before I'd taken more than three steps, but I didn't take it in until I had bent down, picked it up, and was holding it in front of me.

"Here," I said, giving it to Glaceon. She took it delicately between her teeth. "He gave it to you."

Then Glaceon and I started back to the hotel. We didn't need to stay; even if we had made it to the next round (which was highly unlikely), I couldn't go back out on stage again after the appeal disaster. And as we walked, I kept glancing down at the object between Glaceon's teeth.

It was a thornless red rose.


	7. How a Maple Fights

**Chapter Seven**

 **~ How a Maple Fights ~**

 _Can we kiss?_

 _Can we make up?_

 _Please don't tell me_

 _This is our break up_

 _I forgot to meet Dawn after the Contest._ That was the thought circling my mind as I filled a vase with water for the rose Drew had so graciously given to Glaceon. She was currently curled up on my bed, licking her lips after the special pokéblock I'd given her. It was extremely expensive (the berries it was made with weren't easy to come by) so I didn't buy it very often, but she deserved it after her stellar performance.

After placing the vase on the hotel room window sill where it could bathe in the afternoon sun I moved to sit on the bed next to Glaceon. I heaved a sigh, and she looked up at me with large eyes.

"Glaceon, Glace?" she questioned softly.

I began stroking her, absently running my hand from the top of her head to the base of her tail. Her fur was soft and cool like silk. "I really messed up, didn't I?"

She blinked, and her eyes narrowed. "Glace," she mewed firmly.

I shook my head. "I can't help it. I let you down, I let Dawn down, I let Drew down…"

"Glaceon! Glace, Glace, Glaceon!" She stood up, shaking my hand away. She pawed my leg insistently. "Glaceon!"

"You're saying I can still fix things?"

"Glaceon," she confirmed with a nod.

Looking into her determined blue gaze I felt a little better. "You're right – I just need to put my mind to it. I'm so glad you're here. If you were back with Gary too I don't know what I'd do."

"Glace?" She tilted her head, confused.

"Oh, of course – you don't know. Gary and I… We kind of broke up," I admitted, adding, "But it's okay, it was for the best," when Glaceon's eyes turned into pools of sorrow.

"Gla…ceon…" She sounded as upset as if it were her who had just broken up with her boyfriend. She had really liked Gary, come to think of it. But I couldn't think about that – not now, not when I had more important things to worry about.

"I'll tell you what happened later. Right now I have to figure out how to fix things with Drew… Oh! I have his number! I can just text him! But what do I say?" I slid my phone out of its pocket and began chewing my bottom lip thoughtfully. "Should I apologise? He was mean after the Contest, I think he owes me an apology first – though I suppose I started it, sort of - but all I said was that I wanted some time to think about it, why did that make him mad? Ugh, I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't bother. I could just wait here for him to get back and we can talk about it properly. Although, he might just throw me out of the hotel, and then I'd have no-where to go… I guess Dawn might take me in – if she can see past the Paul thing. Which she probably will, but that'll just make me feel even worse…"

"Glaceon," Glaceon growled, rising onto her back legs and bringing her front legs down hard on my own legs. It didn't really hurt – she was fairly light after all – but it did make me stare at her in surprise.

"What?"

" _Glaceon_ ," she insisted, "Glaceon, _Glaceon."_

When I realised what she was trying to say a smile broke on my face. "I'm making this too complicated, right? I should just ask Drew for the address, turn up to Mr Curtly's house, and take it from there?"

Glaceon nodded, satisfied.

I ruffled her teal head fur. "You really are the voice of reason," I commented, smiling. "Okay. Here goes nothing…"

And with anxious fingers I typed the words that I hoped would begin to heal the rift between Drew and I.

* * *

I stood outside Mr Curtly's door shaking like a limp noodle dangling from a fork. It wasn't because of the cold. From the outside Mr Curtly's house looked fairly ordinary – for being situated along one of the high-end streets of Petalburg, at least. Its plain white walls were nondescript, apart from the fact that there didn't seem to be one single speck of dirt on them. The windows were nothing fancy, though in the late afternoon sun they gleamed like silver button embellishments on a brand new coat. The tiled roof of the porch I hesitated under was supported by thin white pillars set into the third stone step from the ground.

It was seven minutes past six. I took a deep breath, and used it to puff out my cheeks while the courage I needed to ring the doorbell set into the polished frame of the heavy wooden door gathered in my stomach. _Why am I nervous? It's just a dinner,_ I told myself firmly. Before I could give into my _flight_ instinct I tipped forwards onto my toes and resolutely pressed the button. The trill sounded faintly from inside. _But it's a dinner with a man who could either make or break Drew… a man who could either make or break_ me _, if he doesn't like me…_ I swallowed audibly and looked over my shoulder at the short gravel path leading a straight line through the centre of the grass which had been cut to a precisely neat height. The edges of the front garden were framed with flowerbeds. Few flowers thrived in winter, but in summer it probably stunned the neighbours.

Not a single aspect of this house was untidy, from the top of the gently smoking chimney to the freshly painted fence enclosing the property. There wasn't one splinter out of place. A bad feeling snaked throughout my body, trailing along my arms and legs and numbing them into immovable lumps. I couldn't have changed my mind and run back down the gravel path if I'd wanted to. _Which I don't_ , I thought fiercely. _I'm here for Drew. And also because without him I'll be homeless. So I'm here for me too._ But _mostly I'm here for Drew. In fact, Drew is the only reason I'm here. He-_

The door clicked open, shocking my limbs into freedom. Before the door had been fully opened I was blabbering the first words that came to mind in the hope that I could hide my nervousness. "Hi! I'm May, it's so nice to see you ag…ain..."

I stared at the person who was standing before me. The light from the hall softly outlined her womanly frame, glancing off her nut-brown hair which hung in gentle curls around her kindly face, which was adorned with a welcoming smile. She was a little shorter than me, and wore an elegant red evening dress which flattered her figure and matched her cherry lipstick. She wasn't who I had been expecting.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I, um, thought you were… someone else," I mumbled lamely. "Does- is this the house of Mr Curtly?"

The lady chuckled. She must have been about forty, but the friendly expression on her face shaved off at least ten years. "Don't worry dear, you're at the right house. I'm Mary, Harold's husband. Please, come in and make yourself at home."

I smiled shyly. "Thank you. It's so nice to meet you." I stepped over the threshold, feeling the warmth lingering in the hall slowly begin to melt the tension in my body.

Mary shut the door behind me and then said, "If you wouldn't mind just taking your shoes off, that would be lovely. I should go and check on the dinner, but please make your way through the door on the left into the front room where Harold and Drew are when you're done."

"Of course, thank you," I said again, but I wasn't really listening. As Mary bustled down the hall my eyes were roving from the plush carpet that looked to be Unovian in origin – and must have cost a great deal to import – to the spotless beige walls lined with stunning paintings of landscapes and pokémon alike, all by different artists and framed in gold. Then I saw the chandelier; small, with glass droplets circling the lightbulb, casting glittering light down the hall. This was even worse than the hotel, because five star hotels which attract loaded customers are one thing, but this was someone's _house_. A place where someone lived, which looked so completely perfect I felt like I was making it dirty just by looking at it. For what must have been the hundredth time since meeting Drew, a single thought dominated my mind. _I don't belong here._

Laughter resonated from the room Mary had pointed out to me, shaking me from my thoughts. I slipped off my shoes – wincing to see the faint mark one of them had already left on the doormat – and placed them carefully on the shoe rack just inside the front door. Then I padded towards the first pristine door on the left and, after a couple of seconds of debating whether knocking first would be polite or juvenile, pushed it open.

It was the most orderly front room I had ever seen. Two leather sofas facing each other, exactly parallel, with a marble-and-glass coffee table directly between them, consumed my gaze first, followed by the Persian rug and the smart, black, flat-screen television which was attached to the wall and took up just shy of half of it. My lips parted in a silent exclamation. _Wow._

"May – you made it." Drew's greeting, exuding a feeling somewhere between bored acceptance and overwhelming relief, pulled my attention to him next. He sat straight-backed on the sofa facing the door, his face a mask of careful indifference. But as I stepped hesitantly into the room, he forced a smile.

If Mr Curtly could sense the tension, he didn't let on. His back was to me as I entered, his purple hair just visible above the top of the sofa, but when I took a seat next to (but not too close to) Drew, he was grinning happily.

"May, I am so glad you're here. Drew was just telling me that after losing a contest today you weren't feeling too well and were considering just staying at home to rest. But I'm relieved you're feeling better – no-one likes a sore loser, after all." Mr Curtly wore a straight face while he spoke, but when he finished he suddenly erupted into laughter as if he had made the funniest joke of the century. My lips parted to form an automatic protest, but no sound came out.

Instead I glanced quickly at Drew, who looked back at me calmly. In his hands was a slim glass of wine, and he took a small sip, his eyes not leaving mine as he lowered his head as if daring me to contradict his story. I didn't rise to the bait. Rather, I decided to just _correct_ Drew's tale of events.

"No, of course not. Actually I began to feel a little ill last night, after dinner – we ate in a restaurant and I'm not convinced the meat was cooked properly. Or maybe," I added with a sideling glance at my fiancé, "it was the company which lacked the appropriate preparation. In any case, under the circumstances I certainly wasn't expecting to win the contest - just try my best. That's all anyone can do, is it not?" I finished, smiling sweetly. Now that I was sitting on the Curtly's plush sofa, opposite the man himself, I wasn't nervous any more. In fact, this was perfect – Drew may have been avoiding me all day, but he couldn't avoid me here. _Drew fired the first shot before I even arrived – he surely doesn't expect me to lie down and bleed so easily. I may have caused his bad mood, but he attacked me when I was weak. It's time to show him how a Maple fights._

Drew started to reply - "It's not like you to be late, May, I apologise if I came to the most obvious conclusion." - but Mr Curtly wasn't listening. The doorbell sounded in the middle of his sentence, and our host stood abruptly.

"Please excuse me," he said swiftly, closing the door as he left.

Drew and I looked at each other. He appeared unfazed, and my expression mirrored his. From the hall outside, we could hear the rumble of voice too low to pick out particular words.

Then Drew's face fell into a scowl. "What are you doing here?"

"You wanted me to come, so here I am?" My confusion shone through my words, but Drew ignored it.

He narrowed his eyes. "When I texted you the address I didn't think you'd actually show. I thought you were being petulant."

I almost choked on my indignation. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I thought you were going to pretend to be coming right up until the last minute and then cancel, to make me look bad in front of Mr Curtly." He didn't sound like he was trying to insult me. His scowl disappeared, and was replaced with an expression of raw honesty. His opinion of me being so low served to fuel my anger.

"Yeah? Well you don't know everything, Grasshead – it's time you learned a lesson about arrogance." I sat back and crossed my arms in satisfaction as his eyes widened slightly. For the first time, he looked nervous. My use of the nickname I had previously only used when we weren't fighting seriously had thrown him – he was afraid that I didn't understand how important this dinner was. I smirked. For once, I had the upper hand.

"May…" he began slowly. "You're not going to do anything you'll regret, are you?"

This time, I _did_ choke. "Why would I regret schooling you in front of a man you're trying to prove your maturity to?" I asked innocently.

Mr Curtly strode back into the room, stalling Drew's response and not noticing Drew's paled skin. "Sorry about that. My two friends have arrived; they are waiting in the dining room. Please, follow me." He led us out of the front room and down the hall to the room just before the staircase.

Inside, Mary was just setting a steaming pot of potatoes on the graceful oak table, at which the two men from the bus yesterday were sat. The room was decorated just as ornately as the rest of the house, with a large painting hanging over the fireplace where a few flames danced, and a rug between the fireplace and the long table upon which a slender, cream-furred pokémon with a red jewel in the middle of its forehead was curled. As Drew and I entered, the Persian lifted its head and stared at us though haughty eyes.

"Ah, there you are," Mary said, without looking up. "Come, sit; help yourselves while I just fetch the chicken."

"Thank you, Mary," Mr Curtly said smoothly as she bustled from the room. He made his way to the head of the table and I followed Drew's lead to taking the seats opposite the two other men.

My bravado vanished. It was easy to talk big in front of Drew, but with all these posh business men here I was more than slightly intimidated. I was silent as everyone began to help themselves. Drew didn't say much either, but he did pass me the peas when I couldn't reach them myself. I had a feeling I was going to regret all the big talking I had been doing a moment ago, the atmosphere was just so formal…. Formal. Everyone was wearing formal clothing, I realised with a start. _Everyone except me._ Even Drew was wearing a suit, and Mary was wearing an evening dress, but I was just wearing my red jumper and jeans. No wonder Mr Curtly's friends were looking at me with distaste as they served themselves carrots and gravy. My heart clenched. _Why did I ever think this would be a good idea?_

Mary returned with the chicken and took her seat opposite her husband, and soon small talk took predominance at the table, with everyone contributing meaningless facts about their lives and laughing over the mistakes other people had recently made. I was the only person not talking – which emphasised the fact that I didn't belong there. And everybody noticed.

I ate my meal slowly, trying to appear too busy with eating to talk anyway. But it was a fairly pathetic attempt to hide my discomfort and the way I stood out, and it just made things worse. _This was a huge mistake. I don't even know Drew, why do I care if Mr Curtly realises he's not going to get married and isn't as mature as he's trying to prove and cancels the business deal? I should just leave. As soon as I get out of here I can forget this whole disaster and move on with my life_. Those thoughts swirled around my head, adding to the sick feeling in my stomach – because I knew I'd never act on them. Leaving now would not only add to my mortification but it would be like admitting defeat. Letting Drew win again was more than I could bear. So I resigned myself to sitting tight and wait for the evening to drag on to its slow but natural conclusion.

Eventually Mary took pity on me. "May, dear, tell me: how did you and that fiancé of yours meet?" Her eyes, brown and warm, radiated altruism. Despite knowing she was only talking to me out of sympathy I was glad to have the chance to involve myself in conversation and try to forget about how obvious it was that I didn't belong here.

Swallowing my mouthful of chicken, I began to spurn out some passable tale about meeting at a Contest a while ago and falling in love at first sight, blah, blah, blah, which was utterly cliché but at least it was safe – a lot more respectable than the truth, which I had no doubt Drew would kill me for revealing. However, I was barely half way through when a lightbulb flashed into existence above my head. This was the perfect opportunity to get back at Drew and re-stitch some of my tattered dignity. I stopped talking to take another mouthful of roast potato, peas, and gravy (and to decide what I was going to change the story to).

"Go on," Mary encouraged, leaning forward slightly. The men weren't paying any attention to us, although I noticed Drew's head was carefully angled with one ear towards our conversation.

"Mm, this food really is delicious – how did you make it so flavoursome?" I asked, stalling for time.

Mary's eyes twinkled. "Why, thank you, but don't tell me you're going to keep an old lady waiting, dear; I would much rather hear about you and your charming fiancé," she replied merrily.

I laughed lightly. "I wouldn't call thirty old, Mrs Curtly." It was plain flattery and we both knew it, but Mary smiled nonetheless. That was the last of my avoidance tactics though, and so I finally embarked on the long, romantic, charming tale of mine and Drew's courtship. "But very well. Where was I? Oh, yes, the Contest. I had actually just broken up with my long-term boyfriend, and as you would imagine, I wasn't feeling at my best. My appeal wasn't bad, considering the circumstances. But I definitely wasn't at the top of my game – if it hadn't been for my Glaceon, I doubtlessly would have started crying in the middle of it. Nonetheless, we got through it, and it was as we were walking offstage that we saw Drew Hayden, famous coordinator extraordinaire-"

"May," Drew interrupted tightly, his hand finding my wrist under the table and giving it a warning squeeze, "I don't think anyone really wants to hear this old story. Why don't you tell them about when I proposed to you? How it was the best day of your life?" he prompted, his tone harsh and his expression dark.

I turned an innocent smile towards him. "Oh, but I don't want to disappoint Mary."

Our conversation had caught Mr Curtly's attention, and now he interjected: "This is a story I'm quite interested in too, Andrew. If we're to go into business it's only appropriate that we get to know each other better, wouldn't you agree?"

Drew turned a charming smile towards Mr Curtly. "Of course," he covered smoothly, "I apologise. I, well, how do I put this? It wasn't my finest moment, that's all – but as you say, business partners do need to know each other."

My eyebrows inched closer together. _What's he up to now?_

Mr Curtly unconsciously reflected his wife's position of leaning forward slightly. If he was a Persian like the one on the rug, his ears would have just pricked straight up.

Drew, who was still holding my wrist under the table, brought my hand up to rest on the top, between our plates, with his covering mine just as an affectionate partner would – or like someone who was trying to put on a show. "I was waiting backstage for my upcoming turn when May finished her appeal, and I found myself commenting on the lack of planning behind her appeal. I – I must admit, I was harsher than I should have been. But… it was only because I could see she was upset. She was so beautiful; I couldn't believe she was a bad coordinator. So I decided to test her. If I told her how badly she had done when she had already been upset about something else and then she came back despite it all at the next Contest and blew the audience away with her determination to succeed, then I would know that she was strong enough to be my girlfriend – and perhaps even more. It may have been wrong, but I felt an undeniable attraction towards her and I knew I couldn't pursue a relationship with someone who wasn't made of the right material to be a business man's wife."

Drew stopped. The room was silent, all attention on him, even though every word he spewed was toxic waste. He had been looking between Mary and Mr Curtly throughout the whole story, but now he turned towards me, his eyes softer than I had seen at any other time. "You passed," he murmured, barely loud enough for his audience to hear. Even Mr Curtly's friends were leaning in, I noticed out of the corner of my eye.

I swallowed awkwardly. The room was holding its breath – waiting for me to respond, I realised nervously. But how should I respond? It didn't feel like an act anymore. Drew's words felt like a genuine apology wrapped in swathes of glamour to prevent Mr Curtly from guessing anything was wrong. I focused in on his hand stroking mine ever so gently, sending ripples of warmth through my body.

Yet it could easily be fake. I had little enough pride as it was: I wasn't going to lose what was left of it now.

"Of course I did," I chirped brightly, stirring everyone from their Drew-induced haze. "Drew and I balance each other out; we make each other stronger, that much was true from the very first day."

Drew looked away as Mr Curtly clapped his hands together. "A wonderful story! Andrew, you're a true businessman, testing the goods before you make a move to purchase! Your father would be proud indeed."

A thin smile stretched Drew's lips.

I was on the verge of conjuring up a story about our engagement that would throw the shade of doubt back onto Drew's character, but looking at the way Drew sat a little less straight in his chair, with his hair casting a shadow over his eyes, I decided not to push him any further tonight. Instead, I turned my attention to the business men opposite us to whom I hadn't yet been introduced to. "So, do you guys work with Mr Curtly?" I asked as politely as I could.

The one directly opposite me answered for the both of them. He was clean-shaven with close-cut brown hair and a face full of sharp angles. "We are in the process of negotiating deals also." He had the clipped pronunciation of an upper class citizen from a foreign region, though I couldn't place the accent.

"Oh," I said, pretending I knew what that meant. "Well, I'm May. It's nice to meet you."

He moved his head in a faint nod. "Bartholomew Smythe," he responded. "This is my colleague, Waldo Kent."

I looked at Waldo Kent, who didn't acknowledge me. He wore the same neat haircut as Bartholomew Smythe but in black instead of brown and a thin moustache hung stiffly on his upper lip.

"I must say, it's a pleasure to meet you again, Miss… May," Bartholomew Smythe commented, casting a loaded look in Drew's direction. Drew was oblivious, engaged in earnest conversation with Mr Curtly. "I see you've changed your hair colour. It used to be auburn, if I recall correctly."

I opened my mouth to correct him, but something about the sly gleam in the corner of his eye stopped me. My hair had never been auburn, but someone's had – _Brianna_ , I thought, dread beginning to snowball around my head. The feeling grew so massive that I could think of nothing to say. My mind was as blank as fresh snow. But Bartholomew Smythe's cheeks lifted in an expectant smile, and I scrambled for an answer to his veiled accusation. "Y-es, I did used to have auburn hair," I said slowly, "but I wasn't really feeling that colour. It clashed with the red I like to wear," I improvised, glancing down at my shabby jumper. Not that my excuses mattered – if Bartholomew Smythe had met Brianna before then it didn't make any difference; he knew I was not who I said I was. Or rather, he knew I wasn't who _Drew_ said I was. And if he told Mr Curtly… Despite my intention of dragging Drew down a peg or two I didn't actually want him to lose the deal.

"Um, Mr Waldo- Kent, I mean, Mr Kent!" I ejaculated, my words tumbling over themselves. "What's your role at your company? I-if I may ask, that is," I tacked on hurriedly.

Waldo Kent looked surprised to be addressed in such a messy manner but it caused him to acknowledge me at last, and he replied in an unoffended tone. "I work with recruitment – looking for undiscovered trainers who have a 'dark horse' quality about them, if you will."

Intrigued, I leaned my elbows on the table and placed my chin in my palms. "What are you recruiting them for?"

Just as he began to answer, Mary rose to her feet. "It looks like everyone's finished – I'll fetch dessert," she decided, picking up her plate and beginning to clear the table.

Drew was quick to offer his aid. "Let me help you, Mrs Curtly," he offered, standing before she could respond.

"Please, call me Mary, dear. And there's no need to help; I wouldn't want to tear you from your riveting conversation with my husband," she responded, with a tinkling laugh.

Drew picked up his plate and mine. "It would be my pleasure, Mary," he insisted charmingly.

Mary chuckled. "Very well then. The kitchen's just through here." She gestured to a closed door in just as perfect condition as every other door I had seen, but before leading him through it she leaned close to me. "You're a lucky one, dear, I'm fortunate if I can get my husband to tell me what time he's coming home so I know when to put the dinner on – don't take Drew here for granted," she whispered, amused.

I grinned, swept up by her cheerful mood. "Don't worry, I don't plan to," I replied conspiratorially.

Drew gave both of us a strange look, which cause us both to giggle, before Mary finally led Drew off to the kitchen. Once they had left I turned back to Mr Kent, who was observing us with passive disinterest. "Sorry, I forgot what we were talking about," I apologized.

He simply picked up where he had left off without comment. "My company recruits trainers who we think have the potential to rise to greatness. We offer financial support to those whose dreams may be stalled because of circumstance and we find opportunities for trainers to show off their innate technique and advance their skills, among other things. The most important service we offer, however, is exposure – we help unknown trainers find a place in the business."

A second lightbulb flickered into life above my head. "So… I'm just curious, but how do you find these trainers? Do you go round watching battles, or do they have to apply, or…?"

Mr Kent raised a delicately trimmed eyebrow. "Both, although usually we prefer to covertly observe battles. Why, are you interested in our services, Miss Maple?"

"Call me May," I said brightly. "I'm not interested myself – but I do have a friend who sounds exactly like the type of person you're looking for. He's extremely talented, and is virtually unknown. I was wondering, if I could, maybe…"

"Ask me to come along and observe your friend some time?" Mr Kent asked, picking up on my train of thought with a small smile – the first I had seen all evening.

"Exactly. So… would you?"

Mr Kent nodded, having at last invested in our conversation. "I have a free couple of hours on Friday afternoon. Here, have my card – give me a call once you've arranged things. Although, if you could, please try not to let your friend know that I'm coming. I'd rather see him battle when he's not trying to impress anyone."

I suppressed a chuckle. I couldn't imagine Paul ever trying to _impress_ someone. But I agreed, and just in time for dessert too. Drew reclaimed his seat and I was glad to see a smile on his face. Helping Mary clear up had evidently relaxed him.

"I miss anything?" he asked, leaning close to me as he tucked in his chair. His eyes slipped over to Mr Kent's smile.

I grinned. "I'll fill you in later," I promised. Drew didn't seem to mind; he just seemed relieved that the atmosphere was now much more amicable and less tense.

Mary began passing bowls of meringue and ice cream around the table and I dug into mine happily. It was only when I happened to glance upwards that I caught sight of Bartholomew Smythe's brooding expression and a chill skittered through my body. In my delight at finding a way to put things right with Paul (and through him, Dawn) I had momentarily forgotten that Bartholomew Smythe had guessed our secret.

The evening finished pleasantly, with a conversation about the Curtly's Persian, who had gotten up and wandered over to the table, winding around the chairs of all the guests.

Mr Curtly offered an open invitation for another dinner on another evening as we all got up, and then Drew and I took our leave while Mr Kent and Bartholomew Smythe stayed a little longer, to finish up a business discussion. We wandered down the Curtly's smart path and turned out of the gate, making sure we were out of earshot. It would be a shame if all of our efforts to seem like a happily engaged couple this evening were to go to waste because of some careless talking after leaving.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out the moment we had walked a reasonable distance. Drew walked half a step in front of me, but he dropped that half a step to look at me evenly.

"Why? What did _you_ do wrong?"

I gaped. Why was he being so calm? All of my previous frustrations welled up into one big flood that came rushing out unexpectedly. "Because I almost cost you your business deal? I never meant to, I promise I didn't. I was just angry because of what happened after the Contest and the way you've been ignoring me and I was fed up of your arrogance – seriously, you need to learn to tone it down. And then your opinion of me was so low when I came here to help you and I just snapped. I never would have actually told them the real story of how we met or got engaged, or said anything which could have smeared your name. I was just baiting you, I just wanted you to see that you need to stop taking me for granted…"

I knew I was blabbering on and my voice grew quieter until I wasn't speaking at all. I hadn't even realised we had stopped walking until Drew reached out and touched my shoulder, gently turning me towards him.

I didn't want to look at him. I was afraid that if I did I would see disgust and hatred oozing from his expression. I thought that if I saw those emotions in his eyes they would seep through my eyes, into my soul. "I'm sorry," I repeated, staring down at the uneven paving stones. "I don't really understand why you were mad at me just wanting to think about our engagement before properly committing, but even so it was wrong of me to try to sabotage you. It was petty and childish. I'm sorry."

The suspense was too much; I couldn't avoid his eyes any longer. I had to know what he was feeling and why he was staying so quiet. When I did drag my eyes upwards, it wasn't hatred or disgust or contempt that lingered in the depths of his gaze but some burning emotion I couldn't decipher.

The buzz of nerves in my stomach intensified. "Drew?" I sounded meek and timid, but I couldn't take the utterance back.

Perhaps it was the darkness concealing his true intentions – perhaps it was the knot of feelings tangled in my stomach – but Drew seemed to tip forwards, his head on course for mine, and in one fleeting moment I would have sworn he was about to kiss me.

The buzz in my stomach twisted its way up my spine and infiltrated my head, pulling a rush of blood up with it, and I felt my skin flush a deep red.

I didn't move – couldn't move – didn't know what to do. But Drew decided that for me: he pulled back sharply before our faces were less than a few centimeters away and cleared his throat loudly. He dropped his hand from my shoulder, too.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," he admitted in a voice so gruff I wondered if it was even his voice at all. "But let's get back to the hotel – you're cold."

I hadn't felt the cold until he mentioned it – especially with all the blood rushing around my body just a moment ago – but it was true; I was shivering, and not just from nerves.

"Okay," I agreed quietly. "Let's go."


End file.
